


Screw You, We're From Texas

by makeit_takeit



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Bad Decisions, Boys In Love, Coming Out, Denial of Feelings, Ethical Dilemmas, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Getting Back Together, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Infidelity, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, POV Alternating, Recreational Drug Use, Religious Guilt, Slow Burn, Supernatural and J2 Big Bang Challenge 2010
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 02:26:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 74,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12695214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makeit_takeit/pseuds/makeit_takeit
Summary: This is what could have happened if fate twisted differently, if they never got those big Hollywood breaks and instead ended up living the lives they grew up expecting to lead. More or less.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to LJ on 8/20/2010, as part of SPN/J2 Big Bang 2010. 
> 
> [Beautiful artwork by saturday_v](http://saturday-v.livejournal.com/9626.html)
> 
> Fantastic podfic by the always excellent [Chemm80](http://archiveofourown.org/users/chemm80/pseuds/chemm80) available [here](http://chemm80.livejournal.com/94706.html).

 

 ***** _I lit out one night in June, stoned on the glow of the Texas moon_ *****

  
  
Tires squeal outside the open window like nails on a chalk board.  
  
The inevitable sounds of crushed metal rush in from the street, people yelling, but Jensen can’t be bothered to get up and see what the ruckus is about.  
  
It’s too hot to move, so much for the weather being so great in California, his t-shirt stuck to his back with sweat. They didn’t even think to ask if the place had AC when they rented it - because who doesn’t have air conditioning in this day and age? Where Jensen comes from, the answer to that question is _no one, that’s who_. In California, turns out, it’s not so cut and dried.  
  
He hates living with the windows open, choking on the smog to keep from choking on the heat. He especially hates it that everyone is so close, everything right on top of him, and he knows more about Dan and Moira next door – Dan’s late nights, out drinking until all hours with _god knows who_ , and Moira’s controlling attitude, how it’s _fucking smothering_ \- than he ever really wanted to, to say nothing of the rest of his neighbors; the old guy with the hacking cough that sounds like impending death, the girl who sits out on the landing all day with her tiny dog, reading scripts and smoking cigarettes. He doesn’t like the idea of these strangers knowing him in the same small ways he knows them, doesn’t want them hearing Ty call him Jenny, hearing him talking to his grandma on the phone, hearing him playing his guitar.  
  
He sings as low as he can; sometimes doesn’t sing at all.  
  
It’s not what he thought it would be.  
  
It’s not that it’s bad, exactly. It’s just that it’s not exactly good, either. He knows it was stupid, naïve of him to think that just because he’s done commercials, because he was the lead in all his high school plays that would actually mean something out here. It doesn’t, of course it doesn’t, thousands of other kids just like him who’ve done all that and more, and still can’t book a job. His friends back home are starting college, asking him his email address and he doesn’t even know what that is, really, or how he could get one. They’re going to frat parties and telling him crazy stories about their new roommates and dorm food and how hard it is to find your classes when campus is _so freaking huge_ , and Jensen is home sick.  
  
He keeps his CD player full of George Strait and Garth Brooks, because even the radio stations suck out here.  
  
He still thinks he’d like being an actor, he’s just not sure he wants to go through what you have to in order to become one. So far nothing has even _happened_ , and he misses his mom and his dad and his brother and sister and his dog and his house and having _space_ , misses seeing the horizon and Tex-Mex and good country radio and _air conditioning_ , and he’d rather stick a fork in his eye than eat another bowl of Ramen or Easy Mac. It seemed like such an adventure, so much fun just a few months ago when he couldn’t wait to leave home. The night they drove out, stereo blaring _Free Fallin’_ and _Under the Bridge_ and _Welcome to the Jungle_ , Ty took his hands off the wheel and stuck both middle fingers in the air when they got out of El Paso, crossed into New Mexico at daybreak.  
  
“Adios, Texas. I’ll be back when I’m famous, motherfucker!”  
  
Jensen tries not to curse, but the truth is he felt the same way - light and completely free, high on possibility, wired with road trip sugar and not enough sleep, sun rising in the rear view mirror.  
  
Now he tells his family he’s fine, but he’s not sure they believe him anymore, and his mom always makes sure to say she’s praying for him. He doesn’t want to worry her, doesn’t tell her how hard he’s praying, too.

**= = = = =**

  
Ty’s right there waiting when Jensen walks into the apartment, worse than a dog sometimes.  
  
“Dude, what’s the verdict?”  
  
“Not rugged enough.”  
  
“What? Again?”  
  
“Yes, _again_.”  
  
“Dude, that’s just. I mean, what’s _rugged_ about Zach freakin’ Morris?”  
  
“Huh?” Jensen raises an eyebrow and tosses his keys on the table.  
  
“I’m just sayin’,” Ty shrugs, “ _that_ jackass got a job.”  
  
Jensen sighs and presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose, runs a hand over the sheared hair at the back of his neck the way he does, like a nervous tic.  
  
“Man, I thought that face was gonna be your ticket. Thought sure as shit you’d be on 90210 or something by now, ya know?”  
  
Jensen knows. Truth is, even though it’s not polite to say so, he kind of thought the same thing. He’s sick of hearing what these slick guys in slick suits and ladies with hard, cold eyes think about his “look”, whether he’s too soft, or not sympathetic enough, or too young or too old, and forget it when they hear him talk. It’s the same thing every time, how his deep, gruff drawl doesn’t match that pretty face, and there’s just nowhere to cast him, nothing fits. Jensen feels like a freak, a fish out of water, and he never thought there was anything wrong with his voice, or his face, and he doesn’t like the way these strangers, these Hollywood wannabe-big shot _assholes_ are making him feel like maybe there is. And he’s sick of having to kiss up, sick of _yeah sure I’ve always loved Days of our Lives, I’m a big fan_. Especially when it doesn’t even get him anywhere.  
  
He can’t even get a job on a freakin’ soap opera.  
  
Nothing about this feels right - not the auditions, not the 10 hour days behind the counter at Koo Koo Roo, smoking in the alley by the dumpster on his breaks. Not the yelling neighbors or the wailing sirens or the gritty glitter of all those famous clubs on Sunset that he can’t even get into anyway.  
  
He stayed at home for almost a month at Christmas, pushed his flight back twice, and still could barely keep the tears out of his eyes when his parents hugged him goodbye at the gate. Sunny, seventy-five degree days in winter only get you so far, and winter’s over now anyway. LA has nothing else going for it, as far as Jensen’s concerned.  
  
He’s starting to wonder how long he can hold out, starting to wonder if he even wants to. He’s pretty sure he could still get into summer school at Tech, get a head start making up for lost time. He tries not to let himself think like that, tries to stay focused on what he’s here to do, but it’s getting harder every day.  
  
His mom has given up pretending she can’t tell how unhappy he is, tells him every time they talk now that there’s no shame in coming home, that it’s not for everybody and this is all just a part of discovering himself, discovering what he really wants, discovering the path the Lord has in store for him. He tells her he’s not quite ready to give up yet, but the truth is he gave up awhile ago, and he hates knowing that’s true. He hates that after all the stories, the cautionary tales of how this city will chew you up and spit you out, all that talk he couldn’t be bothered to listen to, he’s gonna end up just another one of those bitter, whiny rejects crying about how Hollywood is so unfair.  
  
“I really don’t wanna talk about it, okay? Need to go cash my paycheck, rent’s due Friday.”  
  
“Yeah, let’s hit up Del Taco. If I eat another bowl of Cheerios I’ll barf.”

**= = = = =**

  
It’s a short walk around the corner to Von’s, and the girl at the cashier’s desk knows them by now. Ty thinks she’s hot, tries to flirt, but she just gives them a bored look and checks her watch, slides the cash across the counter and tells them in a determined monotone to _have a nice day_.  
  
Further up the street is Del Taco. They’re passing Von’s again on the way back to the apartment, Ty already stuffing a soft taco down as they walk, when Jensen feels the hairs on his neck stand up, feels the tug and twist at his back. He doesn’t even think, just spins around swinging. Feels his fist connect with something sharp, teeth maybe, anger flashing red in front of his eyes so he can’t even see what’s happening, really, just vague awareness of Ty gaping while Jensen grabs blindly for his assailant’s wrist.  
  
He’s too focused on his wallet in the dude’s hand to see the fist coming at him from the other side. Next thing he knows he’s staring up from his back on the concrete, clouds swimming in the pink sky behind Ty’s head.  
  
“Did he get all the money?”  
  
Ty looks sheet-white, shell shocked.  
  
“Yeah, Jen. Yeah, but look, are you okay? You were out for a minute, man.”  
  
“My paycheck. _Rent_.”  
  
“I know dude, just don’t worry about it right now, okay? How many fingers am I holding up?”  
  
Jensen slowly becomes aware of a pounding starting up in his skull directly behind his left eye, of the copper slick of blood on his lip.  
  
When they get home, he cries in the shower, gets it out of his system so he can keep his voice steady and calm when he calls his parents and tells them he’s coming home.

 

 

 ***** _Let the full moon cast a glow. Austin after midnight, gonna sanctify your soul._ *****

  
  
Jared’s staring at the ID in his hand, looking at the mirror, and thinking _no way_.  
  
First of all, he’s only sixteen, and Jeff is five years older than him. And three inches taller than him. And _way_ uglier than him. And this license is expired, anyway. There’s just no way.  
  
“Dude, stop looking so goddamn guilty. Just look the guy in the eye and hand him the thing like it’s really your license. It’s all about confidence, baby.”  
  
Jeff stops in the bathroom door, smacks him on the back, then shoves him.  
  
“Come on, youngster. We’re burnin’ daylight.”  
  
“It’s ten o’clock at night, Jeff.”  
  
“Details, man.”  
  
Jeff grins, eyes drunk and glassy from a day of tailgating that started at ten a.m. There are about twelve people in the living room, still drinking. Jared can tell every time _SportsCenter_ replays the game highlights because spontaneous, obnoxious cheering breaks out, like they weren’t all there today to see it in person.  
  
“Run, Ricky! _Ruuuuun_!”  
  
Jared’s not sure who's doing the Forrest Gump impression, but it kills with the crowd in the living room. The cheering from the other room just gets louder and more obnoxious, and Jared grins, can’t help it. The game was awesome, Ricky Williams is awesome, Jeff’s friends are awesome, grilling brats and drinking beer in the parking lot outside Memorial, floating in a sea of burnt orange was awesome, and if this ID actually works and he actually gets into an actual bar on 6th Street, that’s going to be _completely freakin’ awesome_.

**= = = = =**

  
He bites his nails in the cab, repeating Jeff’s birthday over and over in his head just in case he gets asked. At the door he goes first, and the guy barely looks at him, just grunts and hands the license back while he takes another one from one of Jeff’s friends. He bites his nails some more waiting for everyone else, because Jeff’s at the end of the line, putting as many people as possible between the two Jeff Padaleckis walking in the door in the space of 3 minutes, not that it seems to matter for all the attention anyone’s paying.  
  
“See, you gotta trust me. I’m older and wiser.”  
  
Jeff grins, slings an arm around Jared’s neck when he walks through the door.  
  
“Older and drunker, maybe.”  
  
“Yeah, we need to work on that. Go buy yourself a drink on me, buddy.”  
  
He slaps a 5 in Jared’s hand and then he’s gone, disappeared into the throng of people like a vanishing ghost, which at Jeff’s height is some trick. Jared shrugs and finds a bar, swallows down his nervousness, and orders a beer. He falters for a minute when the bartender asks what kind, but then a guy next to him that Jared’s never seen before says, “The answer’s always Shiner, brother.”  
  
Five Shiners later, Jared’s standing in the corner of one of the maze of rooms that make up the club, looking out the old-fashioned windows at the sea of people down on the street. _Bob Popular_ is a stupid name for a club, he thinks, but then again he doesn’t know much about clubs, and it seems pretty packed so maybe the name fits, after all.  
  
He leans his head back, smoke and lights dancing around his head, smell of sweat in the air, and grins to himself. He’s totally buzzed, and Chris and Jordan are never gonna believe this. He’s already imagining how jealous they’ll be when he tells them all about it in Debate, first period Monday morning.  
  
“How’s that Shiner?”  
  
It’s the guy from the bar, the one who told him what to order. He’s as tall as Jared, grinning and sweaty, right in his face. His shirt is off, tucked into the waistband of his jeans and hanging down to his knee, and his chest is whiter than his arms. Jared swallows hard.  
  
“It’s, uh. Good.”  
  
The guy just grins bigger.  
  
“How old are you, man?”  
  
“Twenty-one.”  
  
“Uh huh. Twenty-one. Okay.”  
  
The grin gets even bigger, and Jared swallows again. He tips up his beer only to realize it’s empty. He stares at it, confused.  
  
“First time on 6th Street?”  
  
Shiner guy raises a knowing eyebrow, and Jared thinks about lying, but figures what the hell. He grins back, lets his dimples show and everything.  
  
“Maybe.”  
  
The guy laughs, shrugs.  
  
“Well, hey, we all had to pop our cherry sometime, right?” He steps closer, bumps their shoulders together. “Welcome to Austin.”  
  
Then his fingers slide around the back of Jared’s neck, pull their mouths together just for a second. Brief slip of tongue and hot soft lips, then he steps back, smirks.  
  
“Maybe I’ll see you around sometime. Like, when you’re really twenty-one.”  
  
Then he’s gone too, somewhere off in the crowd like magic, and Jared’s starting to wonder if someone slipped something in his beer or what. He looks around kind of frantically, blushing beet red and looking for anyone who might have seen, but no one’s even paying him any attention. He breathes a short sigh of relief, sags back against the wall, and that was _definitely_ the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to him.

**= = = = =**

  
Jared has to revise the weird rankings not much later, when Jeff’s drunk friend Lexi mistakes him for her boyfriend and kisses him in the cab, her hand skating up his thigh, rubbing at his crotch.  
  
“Whoa, hey there Lex. Hands off the jailbait brother, man.”  
  
Lexi looks at Jeff, perplexed, then back at Jared, and giggles.  
  
“Ohhhhhhh fuck. Joey’s gonna be sooooo pissed.”  
  
Her hand is still on Jared’s crotch, but he doesn’t know if now’s the time to point that out. Joey’s right behind them in the other cab, and he’s pretty big, and pretty drunk.  
  
Jeff just cackles hysterically, while Jared sweats and shifts uncomfortably until he successfully gets Lexi’s hand closer to the vicinity of his knee.  
  
By the time Jeff’s roommate’s girlfriend walks through the living room where Jared’s sleeping, stark naked on her way to the bathroom, and then _again, still naked_ on her way back, Jared’s sure his friends will never believe any of this. He got to see Ricky Williams play football, see Texas kick Oklahoma State’s ass, go to a club and get sort-of-almost drunk, got kissed by two people in one night, and saw a naked girl – _in person_ – for the first time in his life. A _hot_ naked girl. And yeah, maybe one of the people who kissed him was a guy, but he totally plans to leave that part out when he tells Chris and Jordan all about it.  
  
Two years from now, he’ll be living here, and then every weekend will be just as badass as this one, and he can’t freakin’ _wait_.

 

 

 ***** _If you never been to Texas, there’s a picture to paint,  
cause we do it real big, in case you thinkin’ we ain’t._ *****

  
  
“Check it out, pledge. Hot girl at 3 o’clock with eyes on you.”  
  
Jensen can barely focus, he’s so drunk. He can’t remember how many keg stands he did, but it was enough to decide keg stands were for amateurs. He’s been spending his time at the shot luge ever since, and now pretty much all he knows is his name, and that college is _awesome_.  
  
“Pledge! Look alive!”  
  
There’s a thump on the back of his skull. He feels his brain rattle in a slow-motion, pleasantly painful kind of way, and he vaguely wonders if that means he currently looks dead.  
  
“Martinez, come get your fucking pledge, dude. Sober his ass up before he blows his shot with Miss Hottie with the Body over there.”  
  
Jensen isn’t sure what all the yelling is about, but he hears Greg’s voice, feels a wide hand on his back and grins. He likes Greg.  
  
“Jenny, dude, you gotta man up here, kid. You let that fine piece walk out of here alone and you will never, I repeat, _never_ live that shit down. You hear me?”  
  
Jensen nods. He’s not sure of exactly everything that Greg just said, but he knows the answer to the last question.  
  
“Yes. I hear you.”  
  
Greg smiles, bright white teeth, and shakes Jensen by the shoulders.  
  
“Yes! You hear me! I knew you would, little bro, I knew you would. Now look.”  
  
His hands push and pull, ply Jensen like putty until he’s facing the right direction. Greg is warm against his back, a low voice in his ear, and Jensen grins again, sleepy and happy. His eyes slowly follow the line of Greg’s outstretched arm, all the way to the point of his extended finger and beyond, and then finally Jensen sees her, the reason for everything.  
  
She’s blonde and cute, curvy in all the right ways, and she’s smiling at him, a coy little smile like she thinks barely-vertical frat boys in training are just the most adorable thing. Jensen staggers a little when Martinez gives him a shove, but he walks dutifully over and extends his hand.  
  
“Jensen.” He tries to smile winningly, but his charm is overshadowed by the way his beer sloshes past the rim of his SOLO and down the front of her shirt. “Oh shit, sorry, sorry.”  
  
He pats clumsily at the dark stain before he realizes he’s pretty much just copping a feel. He hears Martinez and some of the other guys hooting and laughing somewhere behind him, but the girl just takes his hand like it never happened, and grins.  
  
“Julie.”  
  
“Awesome. And sorry.”  
  
“Yeah, I got that part.”  
  
She laughs, and Jensen feels a nervous tightness in his stomach. He can almost see where this is going, like the future unfolding in his mind, and he’s not so sure it’s a good idea. What would his mom say?  
  
The girl is talking, saying something, staring at him with that coy smile again, eyebrow raised, and she’s holding his hand now. Wow, he’s got to concentrate. Seems like she’s waiting for something, so he tries,  
  
“Sorry. What?”  
  
She laughs, tugs at his hand.  
  
“Just come with me, okay?”  
  
The way the guys are yelling and whistling behind him, Jensen figures it must be, so he goes.

**= = = = =**

  
They make out on her couch, waxy lipstick on his lips and soft fingers on his face, and it’s not like he’s never done this before. He had girlfriends in high school and everything, it’s just…it’s different now. There are no parents, no curfews, no one expecting them, no one to interrupt them. No one to _stop them_ , and he’s not sure how to feel about that. It’s sort of weird, he knows, the way he doesn’t really care much about losing his virginity the way most guys do. He guesses he should be thankful, thinks he’s probably lucky that he seems to be immune to the temptations of sex in ways his friends aren’t, and it’s hard enough already feeling guilty about his drinking and partying, about missing class and church way too often, about not concentrating enough on school and concentrating too much on his social life. It’s hard enough knowing he’s not living the way his parents would want him to, that there are things they’d be so disappointed in, if they knew, and he was kind of hoping sex, or not having it, could be the one thing he managed to do right while he was in college. The truth is any time he gets close, like now, it all feels wrong, and not just in the _Jesus wouldn’t like it_ kind of way. In high school his girlfriends were always good girls, devoutly abstinent, and he never would have tried to convince them to be otherwise. This time he’s not sure if it’s the girl, or the situation, the way it happened, or the way he can’t even remember her name, but all of it is just wrong.  
  
“Everything okay?”  
  
He can tell by the look on her face that he’s not doing it right, too much thinking and not enough kissing, but his head is spinning and he has to close his eyes, has to let his head rest back against the soft cushions, just for a minute.  
  
In the morning, after he wakes up in the exact same position on the couch, she just laughs at his pale face, his slitted eyes and his hair sticking up everywhere, and promises not to tell any of her Fiji friends, or friends with Fiji boyfriends, that he didn’t close the deal.  
  
“Don’t worry, I know how those guys can be,” she says, and gives him some Advil, a pop tart and a beer for the road.  
  
She kisses his cheek and goes to take a shower, and he wanders out into the sunlight to try and get his bearings. The stench of the stock yards on the wind makes him heave a little, this long in Lubbock and he should be immune to it by now. He manages to get a hold on it, breathes through his mouth. He’s got 20 minutes ‘til Bio starts, he’s already missed it too many times but he just can’t make himself head in the right direction. Instead he goes home and crashes for 6 hours.

**= = = = =**

  
The phone wakes him. It doesn’t even hurt his head, at least not much, so he figures he’s recovered.  
  
“Dude! You weren’t in Spanish. Still sleeping it off?”  
  
It’s Martinez. Jensen just grunts.  
  
“Well, listen, Julie told Casner you were a wild man last night dude. Not even initiated yet and already a Fiji legend; that’s my little bro.”  
  
Jensen feels his stomach churning. Maybe not so much recovered after all.  
  
“Uh. Right, Julie. Yeah, she’s a fun girl.”  
  
“Hah. Fun girl, I fuckin’ bet she is. Get your ass out of bed and meet me at the Bell, I’ll buy you a _congrats, you got laid_ burrito.”  
  
Jensen looks at the clock. He could technically probably still make his Chem lab at 4.  
  
“I’ve got class.”  
  
“Screw it dude, why start now? Besides we’re partying tonight at Bash’s; we can get a head start.”  
  
Jensen knows he should protest, but it’s hard to argue with solid logic. He rubs the back of his head, sighs, and figures _what the hell_ ; you’re only 20 with a fake ID in a college town and a newfound rep as a chick magnet once in your life, right?  
  
“Let me hop in the shower. I’ll meet you there in 30.”

 

 

 ***** _I always sound just like a Texan, no matter how I try to wash that white trash off of me._ *****

  
  
Jared wipes his palms on his jeans and picks up the phone.  
  
“Uh, hello?”  
  
The woman on the other end sounds frighteningly professional.  
  
“Yes, this is Camille Mailer calling from the Promotional Marketing Division at FOX Broadcasting. I’m calling for Mr. Jared Padalecki, please.”  
  
It’s seven o’clock on the dot, right when they said she’d be calling.  
  
“Um, sure, hi, this is Jared.”  
  
“Jared, how lovely to finally speak with you.”  
  
Jared’s been really busy, always at the library under a pile of AP homework or with Chris after school working on their interpretation piece, which is _awesome_ this year, by the way. So yeah, he hasn’t been home much, and they tried calling three times before they finally set up a time to call back, scheduled it when he knew he’d be around.  
  
“Nice to speak with you too, Miss-“  
  
“Mailer, but please, Camille.”  
  
She sounds older, more important than someone Jared would feel right calling by her first name, so he just says, “Okay, sure.”  
  
“Jared, as you know by now, we’re conducting phone interviews with the top finalists in our Claim to Fame promotion. We just want to get a better feel for who you are, what you’ve accomplished so far and what you hope to accomplish in the future.”  
  
Jared does know. Frankly, he really can’t believe he’s in the top ten of anything, much less some random contest Megan badgered him into entering, on a form ripped out of a teen magazine, with a head shot taken by his drama coach in the auditorium at school.  
  
When they first called he thought it was Megan trying to pull a prank or something, but it turned out to be for real. Now Megan’s standing in the kitchen doorway, chewing on her lip and watching him with wide eyes while he spins nervously on his barstool and answers Miss Mailer’s questions.  
  
It doesn’t take long.  
  
“Well, Jared, I think that about does it. We appreciate your time.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
It’s been 5 minutes and not even as many questions; Jared was expecting something…more.  
  
“Okay then, uh. Well, um, what happens now?”  
  
“You’ll be notified by phone sometime in the next week, if you’re one of our two winners.”  
  
“What if I’m _not_ one of the winners?”  
  
“I wouldn’t spend too much time worrying about this, Jared. You seem like a smart, talented young man, and that accent, it’s just precious.”  
  
The way she says it feels more condescending than complementary, and Jared’s cheeks start to burn.  
  
"You should be proud to have been chosen as a finalist from such a talented group of young people. I’m sure you’ll go far, no matter what the committee decides.”  
  
Jared’s gut feeling is that he’s being dismissed, and hangs up feeling pretty sure another call’s never coming. Turns out he’s right. Once the week passes and he doesn’t hear anything, he goes back to his regularly scheduled life. It would have been cool, a free trip to LA and getting to be on TV and everything, but it’s his senior year and he’s got plenty of other things to focus on.

**= = = = =**

  
He and Megan watch the Teen Choice awards on the floor in the den, boo and throw popcorn at the TV when the FOX Claim to Fame winners come out to present their award, but the truth is Jared can’t really bring himself to care much. It’s more out of curiosity than anything else, tuning in to see the boy they chose instead of him. The kid kind of looks like Jared, actually, just a little shorter and not quite so skinny. And probably from somewhere more glamorous than San Antonio, Texas, Jared can’t help thinking.  
  
But Jared’s got his early acceptance to UT, he and Chris have already applied for student housing, and he can’t wait to get to Austin. Mostly he just feels bad for Megan; she had her whole future planned around him winning that contest.  
  
“I was so sure you were gonna win and be rich and famous! Now who’s gonna introduce me to celebrities?”  
  
She turns on him, showering him with a handful of popcorn to add to the mess already surrounding them.  
  
“Sorry, shrimp. Guess you’ll have to find another way to get Leo’s attention.”  
  
Their mom cruises through with a stack of freshly folded laundry and surveys the scene with a withering look.  
  
“I don’t even want to know, just make sure you get it all out of the carpet.”  
  
“Don’t worry Mom, Jared’s going to clean it up.”  
  
Jared kicks at Megan’s leg and misses, tries again as she rolls away, giggling.  
  
“Hey! Now I’ll never marry Leo and it’s all your fault - I think vacuuming is the least you can do.”

 

 

 ***** _On the strip the kids get lit so they can have a real good time.  
Come Sunday they can just take their pick from the crucifix skyline._ *****

  
  
Jensen’s got his bag packed for the roadie to Lawrence on Friday, homework for the classes he’ll miss is already turned in, he just balanced the chapter dues ledger and fucking miracle of miracles, everyone actually paid this month so he won’t have to dodge the regional treasurer, and he’s got time for a nap before the house party at Casner’s tonight.  
  
Life is good.  
  
He cracks open a beer, downs it in the shower, humming _Bawitdaba_ and running a quick razor over his face. He slides naked into bed, planning on catching an hour or so, when the phone rings.  
  
It’s Jamison, the head trainer, just making sure he got the kits packed after the team's final walk-through earlier. Jensen assures him they’re ready to go, prepared for any and every possible injury or issue any Red Raider may have on the gridiron on Saturday. Hell, he even remembered Kliff Kingsbury’s backup-backup contact lenses, just in case.  
  
After that, it’s Gonzales calling, wanting to know if there’s money in the kitty for tiki torches. Jensen figures why the hell not, tells him to take it out of petty cash and that he’ll see him at nine.  
  
Then it’s his mom, reminding him it’s his dad’s birthday on Sunday and to please remember to call. Jensen promises he will.  
  
He looks at the clock and sighs, slides out of bed. No point in a fifteen minute nap, and he’s got to pick up three handles of Everclear for the trashcan punch and tune his guitar for the 80’s medley he’s playing with Casner anyway.

**= = = = =**

  
The girl, whatever her name is, tastes like tequila and kisses like it might be her last chance. He’s feeling good, just about time to take this show to a new location.  
  
He drags his mouth away from hers.  
  
“Wanna get out of here?”  
  
“Definitely.”  
  
She grins at him, and he slides his hand down into the back pocket of her jeans, grins back as he pulls her away from the makeshift dance floor in the middle of someone’s living room.  
  
“Let’s do it, then.”  
  
He waves to Gonzales on the way out, hears the yells of his brothers behind them, chanting their favorite nick name at him as they hit the door.  
  
“Mackles!”  
  
It’s stupid, but it makes Jensen grin to himself. Every time he leaves with a girl – which is _every time_ , regardless of where they are or what they’re doing – they start up. It’s like they take personal pride in his ability to mack on chicks, and who is Jensen to deny them their enjoyment?  
  
The girls are, without fail, pretty drunk, and this one is no exception. Occasionally they actually get around to doing something, an uncoordinated hand job or a five minute fuck that may or may not even have a happy ending, but more often than not Jensen just ends up on their couch watching TV, volume turned up so he can’t hear the retching from the bathroom, or falling asleep next to them after they pass out. They’re always apologetic in the morning, embarrassed, and he tells them _don’t worry about it_ , and _it’s no problem_.  
  
Honestly, he doesn’t much miss it when it doesn’t happen.  
  
Tonight she’s already sagging against him in the cab, head lolling on a limp neck so that he has to at least _consider_ just dropping her off and heading home, but that’s not how this works, it’s not what he does. He goes home with them, always spends the night, that’s just part of it.  
  
He gets her onto her bed, kisses her for a little while until she’s barely responding anymore, then pulls off her shoes and tucks the blankets around her, and closes the door behind him. He gets a beer from the fridge and turns on the TV. He’s had a long day, up early to treat and tape all the players, down on the sidelines running around all game long, the plane home from Kansas too loud with the sounds of victory for anyone to catch any shut-eye, then hauling and storing all the training equipment after they landed, followed by the obligatory celebrating tonight.  
  
Still, it’s not even two yet; he doesn’t feel tired.  
  
He hears the door to the apartment open behind him a few minutes later, giggling and slurred words, and a girl Jensen can only assume is the roommate is being dragged through the door by some dude in an ∑AE hat. She doesn’t seem in the least concerned that there’s a strange guy sitting on her couch, doesn’t even seem to notice really, and the guy she’s with just nods at Jensen as they disappear into her room and close the door. Jensen turns the volume up a little, just in case.  
  
He’s helping himself to his third beer when a voice comes from right behind him.  
  
“Hey dude, could you pass me one of those?”  
  
Jensen almost jumps out of his fucking skin. He spins, sees the guy from earlier standing there in his boxers and undershirt.  
  
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”  
  
“Shit, uh. Yeah, sure man. No problem.” Jensen hands over a beer, turns to lean against the counter behind him.  
  
“Graham.” The guy holds out his hand.  
  
“Oh, yeah. Uh, Jensen.”  
  
“Guess Liz left you high and dry?  
  
Liz, right. That’s her name. Jensen shrugs, what-are-ya-gonna-do.  
  
“I’m Kacie’s boyfriend. She passed out on me, too.”  
  
He jerks a thumb back over his shoulder toward the short hallway, open bathroom door and two bedroom doors closed tight.  
  
“Sucks when they get so fuckin’ shitfaced.”  
  
“Yeah. Sucks.”  
  
Jensen shrugs again and takes a pull on his beer. There’s something off, something making his skin prickle, and the guy seems nice enough but he’s looking at Jensen funny, standing in the doorway to the kitchen kind of blocking Jensen in, and Jensen’s starting to feel weird, uncomfortable.  
  
Trapped.  
  
“Guess we’re blue-balling it tonight, huh bro?” Graham’s smile is all teeth. Jensen eyes him skeptically.  
  
“Guess so.”  
  
Graham sets his beer down, closes the distance between them, and suddenly Jensen’s heart rate is spiking. He can smell the beer on Graham’s breath.  
  
“Or not. You ever get a buddy to help you out?”  
  
“What? No, I never. Dude, no way.”  
  
Graham is still grinning, his fingers tugging at Jensen’s belt.  
  
“You should try it sometime, bro. Takes the edge off, you know?”  
  
Jensen’s belt is open now, Graham’s fingers against Jensen’s belly as he works at the button of his jeans, pulls them open. Jensen feels frozen, not sure what the fuck is happening, and something tells him he should be running, should be punching this guy, shoving him off, but he’s not.  
  
_He’s not_.  
  
Then Graham’s on his knees, mouth on Jensen’s dick, head bobbing with his hand inside his own boxers and Jensen is hard as nails, scared out of his mind. He feels Graham’s hands on his ass, pulling, feels the muscles of that hot, tight throat working, better than anyone’s ever done it, better than anything he’s felt, _ever_ , and he lets go of his white knuckle grip on the counter with one hand. Slow, tentative like maybe this is a mirage that will disappear, he lets his hand rest on the top of Graham’s head, just testing.  
  
The guy groans deep down, vibrations sending little tremors through Jensen’s whole body. He sucks even harder and Jensen grips a handful of his hair just by instinct, something he’s never dared do to a girl.  
  
He comes faster than he ever has, faster than he thought he _could_. He pulls at Graham’s hair, pulls his head off just in time to get the mess on the shoulder of the guy’s t-shirt instead of on his face. Graham’s eyes roll and his mouth falls open when Jensen tugs again at his hair, his hand jerks in his shorts and he groans and Jensen knows he’s coming.  
  
Jensen can barely breathe, feels wrecked, totally exposed standing there with his pants still open, dick hanging out. He can feel his face burning as he scrambles to tuck himself in, to look anywhere that’s not at Graham, but the guy just grins up at him, slaps the side of his knee companionably.  
  
“I’m gonna sleep so much better now, dude, don’t know about you.”

**= = = = =**

  
It’s barely dawn when Jensen creeps out of the apartment. He’s never done that before, never left a girl without sticking around to play Mr. Nice Guy in the morning, tell her thanks for the good times and maybe he’ll see her around again even though he makes damn sure he never will. He feels like an asshole, but he’s got bigger worries. He’s got to get the hell out of there before he chances running into Graham again.  
  
He bolts down all three flights of stairs like he’s fleeing the scene of a crime. In a way, he is.  
  
He’s not far from home, decides the walk will do him good, a little fresh air to clear his head. He ducks into a Texaco for a cup of coffee and a lighter, he can’t find his anywhere. He’s walking out of the store when he’s hit with an image of his pants around his hips last night in the kitchen, suddenly panicking at the thought that his lighter might have fallen out of his pocket, might be sitting there on the kitchen floor right where he let that _guy_ do that _thing_ to him, might somehow announce to Liz and her roommate exactly what happened right there in that spot while they slept.  
  
He knows he’s freaking out, tries to breathe and calm down, but it’s not really working. It feels like it’s written on his face or something, and the thought of anyone ever knowing, ever finding out. The thought of ever seeing that guy again, just running into him somewhere; Jensen feels queasy just at the idea.  
  
He finishes his cigarette sitting on the front steps of his place, checks his phone and sees that it’s seven o’clock now, thinks about having to call his dad today and knows he’ll ask if Jensen went to church this morning. He thinks about all the times he’s answered _no_ to that question lately, thinks _and this is what happens_. Shit, this is the kind of thing that happens when you stray.  
  
He knows he was raised better than this.  
  
He turns off his brain, forces himself to just not think, not about _that_ , not about anything, and goes inside to shower. He drives up the street past his usual church, can’t stand the thought of any familiar, well-meaning faces today, and stops in at the early service at Grace Bible. He prays for forgiveness with his hands shaking on back of the pew in front of him, but doesn’t name the sin he needs forgiveness for, not even to himself, certainly not to God. He figures it doesn’t matter, there’s no keeping secrets from the Lord whether he puts words to it or not.  
  
He calls his dad to say happy birthday, answers _yes, sir, just got back from the early service_ and feels sick at the satisfaction he hears in his dad’s voice. They talk about the game yesterday, about how his grad school applications are going, about how Josh and Mack and Mom are doing. When his dad has to go, when he says _love you, kid_ , Jensen can feel his pride, knows he’s thinking what a fine son he’s got, and Jensen closes his eyes and promises himself that he will be, from now on.  
  
_He will be_.


	2. Chapter 2

***** _And it’s cool everybody knows that you’re sneaking into all the shows. Now you’re_

_livin’ on the edge_. *****

  
  
Jared finishes boxing up the last of his t-shirts, tossing in a couple of leftover books, tapes the top and stacks it on his bare mattress. Chris comes in with another trash bag, and they start sacking up the pile of discarded papers and ruined clothes, stained towels and fast food cups that seems too big to have been hiding around their tiny dorm room all year.  
  
“Dude, how did we get so much shit in here?”  
  
“I have no idea. I think Kelly’s right, we’re disgusting.”  
  
“She’s _totally_ right. We should have listened.”  
  
The bathroom door slams open and Jimbo’s head pops into the room.  
  
“Pizzas are here, bitches. Better get your asses in here before Chen eats it all.”  
  
“I can hear you, asshole.” Chen’s voice comes from the other side of the suite, over Jimbo’s shoulder.  
  
“Sorry Freddy, but you know if there’s food around, you can’t be trusted.”  
  
“I could say the same for you and booze, but I didn’t, did I?”  
  
Jared snorts and drops the trash sack he’d been holding open.  
  
“Hey!” Chris is left with an armful of garbage and a crumpled bag at his feet. “We’re working here.”  
  
Jared grins back over his shoulder.  
  
“Dude, pizza. Did you not hear?”  
  
Chris trails him through the bathroom and into Jimbo and Chen’s room. They call Kelly to come down and Jordan to come up, and everybody pays Jimbo for their share before he’ll let them near the stack of pizza boxes on his desk.  
  
Jared takes the large pepperoni he ordered for just himself, settles in on Jimbo’s bed with the box on his lap.  
  
“So what’s on tap for tonight kids?” Jimbo’s looking around expectantly while he chews on his pepperoni roll.  
  
“We have to pack.” Kelly sips her Diet Coke and looks pointedly at Chris.  
  
“Right. We have to pack.”  
  
“Whipped! “ Jordan coughs it into his hand, shaking his head at Chris sadly like he isn’t used to it by now, like Chris and Kelly weren’t like this all through high school.  
  
Kelly just goes on like she didn’t hear him. “And Jared, don’t drink too much. If you’re useless tomorrow because you’re hung over, I’ll kill you.”  
  
Jared just grins at her and ruffles her hair like she’s a little kid.  
  
“Can’t wait to be your roommate either, Kell.”  
  
“See?” She raises an eyebrow at Chris and jerks her head at Jared. “ _He_ understands that my threats and insults are really just my way of showing affection. I keep telling you, you’re too sensitive.”  
  
Chris sighs and flips them both off.  
  
Jimbo is flipping through _The Daily Texan_ , rattling the pages. “Reckless Kelly’s playing at Stubbs tonight.”  
  
Chen groans. “No more country music, _please_.”  
  
“Dude, it’s _good_ country music. There’s a difference.”  
  
“Only if you believe such a thing exists, man.”  
  
“Whatever.”  
  
Jimbo tosses his wadded up napkin at his roommate and sighs.  
  
“Anyone else? Jared?”  
  
“I’m in.”  
  
“Jordan?”  
  
“Sounds good.”  
  
“J-man? You got Scotty and Coop?”  
  
“Yeah, I’ll call them. You know Coop’s got a man crush on Willy Braun - he’ll be there.”  
  
Jimbo points at Fred as he stands up.  
  
“Overruled, Chen! Reckless Kelly, dude. Get psyched!”  
  
Chen sighs, shrugs.  
  
“Fine. Bunch of redneck assholes.”

**= = = = =**

  
Stubbs is packed, like always. Jared’s carrying 6 Lone Stars, pressure of his hands holding them together, keeping them from falling because his hands are big, sure, but not big enough to span 6 beer bottles, no matter what his jackass friends try to say in order to force him to make the beer run. _Every time_.  
  
There are a bunch of girls at their table when he gets back, so he puts the beers down and slides them around to all the girls first, keeping one for himself. His friends grab for the one that’s leftover, and Jared just smirks. The girls all smile at him, so his friends can bite him.  
  
The brunette with the almost-black eyes is the one who gets the biggest grin back, and it doesn’t take long for him to find his way around to her end of the table, straddling the bench next to her and leaning in close so she can hear him over the music.  
  
“Jared.”  
  
“Gabby.”  
  
“Nice to meet you.”  
  
He can’t hear what she says in response, but she’s smiling, black eyelashes fluttering, so he figures he’s in.  
  
Nine beers later - five for him, four for her - Reckless Kelly is wrapping up their set and Gabby is practically in Jared’s lap.  
  
“Where do you live?”  
  
“Jester.”  
  
“Me too!”  
  
She squeals like it’s the biggest coincidence, as if Jester’s not the size of a small city, but Jared just grins.  
  
“Wanna go home?”  
  
He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and she giggles at him, lets her forehead rest against his shoulder.  
  
“I think I’m drunk,” she whispers conspiratorially, hissing against his skin, and Jared thinks maybe he should feel bad for trying to get into a drunk girl’s pants, but the insistent pressure in his own pants begs to differ. He can feel her tits pressed against his arm, hot breath on his neck, smell the sweet fruity scent of her hair, and he thinks no red-blooded eighteen year old male could be expected to keep from at least making the attempt.  
  
Her friends are making moves like they’re about to leave, and Jared feels his chance slipping away. She gives him an apologetic smile as her friend – the bossy, blond, prissy looking one that wasn’t drinking, because there’s got to be one in every group – herds the whole bunch of girls toward the door, bitching about the cab waiting and the meter running.  
  
“Dude.” Cooper drops his forehead to the table. “I was like _this close_ to getting some.”  
  
“Tell me about it.”  
  
Jared drains what’s left of his beer and bites his lip. His dick hasn’t gotten the message that it’s all over, skin buzzing with drunk, turned on electricity.  
  
“She had her hand on my dick under the table, then she _walks out_? That blond bitch with the attitude totally cock blocked us man.”  
  
Jared stands up, mind already working on plan B.  
  
“Don’t remind me. Let’s bounce.”

**= = = = =**

  
Jared swore he wasn’t gonna do this again, he _swore_.  
  
He rubs his palm against the crotch of his jeans, leans back against the wall of the stairwell and groans, tells himself one more time can’t hurt. Tomorrow he’s out of Jester for good, into his own place with Chris and Kelly, away from the temptation lurking just a few floors up.  
  
This will be the last time.  
  
He finishes the last few stairs up to the twelfth level and opens the heavy fire door. Two doors down on the right, and he decided a long time ago that it’s easier to come up the four flights of stairs instead of taking the elevators. Somehow walking all the way to the end of the hallway from the elevator makes him feel too exposed, too much time to run into someone who’s gonna ask what he’s doing up on 12.  
  
He knocks three times, wipes his hands on his jeans, then leans against the cinder block wall and tries to look relaxed, not nervous.  
  
Cool, like it’s no big deal.  
  
Ian opens the door, smell of weed wafting out around him, and grins up at Jared.  
  
“Sweet.”  
  
Jared grins back.  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Yeeeaaah. Want a hit?”  
  
He holds the joint out as he swings the door open.  
  
“Well. I wouldn’t want to be rude.”  
  
Jared takes the jay and sucks in while the door closes behind him.  
  
“You look good doin’ that.”  
  
Ian’s smirking, leaned back against the door, licking his lips. Jared blushes.  
  
“Your roommate gone?”  
  
“Already went home.”  
  
He moves in on Jared, hands running under his t-shirt, fingers sliding on slippery skin.  
  
“You’re sweaty.”  
  
“Sorry, I ran up the stairs.”  
  
“Ran, huh?” Ian presses his nose to Jared’s chest and breathes deep, _hmms_ happily. “I like it.”  
  
Jared blushes even deeper, but his dick is definitely not feeling as bashful as the rest of him.  
  
“I think you’re just high.”  
  
Jared manages to breathe the words without his voice shaking too much. Ian mouths at his collar bone through his shirt and tugs at Jared’s belt, pulls his jeans open, then pushes him back, shoves him toward the bed.  
  
“I do seem to have the munchies all of a sudden.”  
  
Ian flashes a devious grin and rips his own shirt off over his head while Jared flops back on the bed and kicks clumsily at his sneakers before he pulls one foot up, leaving his legs wide open in invitation. Ian shimmies out of his shorts and crawls naked between Jared’s legs, tongue pressed against his top lip and still grinning. He lies down on top, fits their bodies together, pushes Jared’s shirt up higher and sniffs and licks at the clammy skin he’s uncovered while they rub and grind. Jared’s head’s thrown back, bottom lip tucked under top teeth, trying to just let it happen, like somehow that’s better, somehow if he doesn’t participate _too_ much, doesn’t chase it, doesn’t egg it on, then it means he never really wanted it that bad, means he could take it or leave it even if he was the one who showed up at Ian’s door.  
  
And he’s always the one who shows up at Ian’s door, of course, because Ian knows without being told not to come knocking on Jared’s door. Right or wrong, this only goes one way.   
  
It’s stupid, nothing but semantics. Jared’s not dumb, he knows he’s just telling himself half-truths to explain away what he’s doing, but then Ian latches onto his nipple with sharp teeth, and Jared doesn’t really care anymore. He whines and pants, grabs onto Ian’s ass with both hands and pulls him down tight at the hips, humps up against him insistently.  
  
“ _Mmmm_ yeah,” Ian groans into his chest, “show me what you want.”  
  
He grins against Jared’s neck, sucks under his chin, attaches lips to his mouth and steals Jared’s breath with a hot, insistent tongue, and Jared really, _really_ doesn’t care anymore.

**= = = = =**

  
“Think that’s it?”  
  
Kelly’s got her hair tied up in a bandana, flopped on the crappy second hand futon in the tiny living room of their new duplex. The place is crammed with boxes; Jared can barely make it from the front door down the hall to his room. He strips his wet shirt off and rubs it over his dripping face, for all the good it does.  
  
“I think so. I fucking hope so.”  
  
“Chris!” She bellows like the place is actually big enough that someone might not be able to hear her.  
  
“Shit, I’m right here.”  
  
Chris pokes his head out of the kitchen.  
  
“We need beer.” She smiles at him and bats her eyes, like that actually might work. He just snorts.  
  
“Tell Jared, he’s got the best ID.”  
  
“That’s true,” she nods, “you do have the best ID.”  
  
“I’m disgusting, I can’t go out in public.”  
  
“We’re all disgusting. That’s no reason to go without beer, and you still have the best ID.”  
  
Jared sighs, rolls his eyes.  
  
“Fine. Help me find the box with my t-shirts in it, and I’ll go get your fucking beer.”  
“Done!”  
  
They navigate the maze of boxes and furniture to his room, tear open container after container until they find what they’re looking for. Jared slides a shirt on, then after twenty more minutes hunting through the chaos for his keys, he heads for the door, then stops.  
  
“Wait. Are you guys sending me out so you can christen your room? Because if you are you better be done by the time I’m back.”  
  
Kelly just grins.  
  
“Feel free to take your time.”

**= = = = =**

  
“You’re up, Padalecki.”  
  
Jordan’s swinging the business end of the bat in his direction, but Jared waves him off.  
  
“Can’t.”  
  
“Don’t be such a pussy.”  
  
“Shut up, dickwad. You don’t understand my pain.”  
  
“Yeah, my heart is fucking bleeding, dude.”  
  
“I’m serious, I need a pinch hitter.”  
  
“Oh, Jesus Christ.”  
  
Jordan sighs his most put-upon sigh, and addresses no one in particular.  
  
“Anyone wanna pinch for Grandma Moses here?”  
  
Scotty rolls his eyes and takes the bat with the hand that’s not holding his cigarette.  
  
“I’m supposed to be out this inning, dude.”  
  
“Sorry to interrupt your chain smoking with my excruciatingly fucking painful injury.” Jared grumbles and shifts uncomfortably on the metal bench, chain link dugout fence digging into his shoulder.  
  
“Why the fuck are you playing hoops on concrete, J-man?” Chris hands him a beer and sits down next to him on the bench. “Don’t you know that’s what your student services fee is for, so you can play inside?”  
  
“It takes too fucking long to get on a court at Gregory or RSC, man. It’s easier on the outdoor courts.”  
  
Chris just shakes his head.  
  
Jared shifts uncomfortably on his bad hip. No matter what his asshole friends say, it fucking hurts, shooting pain all the way down the outside of his thigh every time he puts anything more than the slightest pressure on his left leg.  
  
Coop slides up next to him and elbows him in the ribs, points toward the backstop.  
  
“Check out the top of the bleachers, J-man.”  
  
It’s the girl from Stubbs the other night, Gabby, and her friend that was talking to Coop. Jared remembers immediately how she smelled, scent memory making him shift on the bench for reasons completely unrelated to his hip.  
  
“Long as you’re not playing, I say we take a little walk.”  
  
Jared stands up, shakes out his leg, tests it out. He doesn’t want to limp over to this girl like some pathetic gimp. He sees her look over, _feels_ it when she sees him. No turning back now.  
  
“Yeah, man. Yeah, let’s take a walk.”  


 

 

***** _Like all the hippies down in Austin, wearin’ orange and sippin’ tea_. *****

  
  
Jensen has called all his friends, his brother, told everyone he knows, but he saved his parents for last. He knows how hard his mom’s been praying, knows how much they’re both wanting this to work out for him, and when he gets them both on the phone, tells them he got the job, his mom lets out a squeal.  
  
“Oh, baby! That’s so wonderful, I’m so happy for you.”  
  
“So Austin, huh kid?”  
  
Jensen has to laugh at the skepticism in his dad’s tone, even though he knows it’s all for show.  
  
“I know, I know. I’ll be growing my hair long any day now.”  
  
It’s not glamorous, it’s not longhorn football, but getting onto the sports medicine staff at the University of Texas is still a great step in the right direction. Jensen doesn’t know much about tennis, but he can’t wait to learn, figures it’s an excellent start to his career that he got on at a major university right out of PT school, even if it’s in a minor sport.  
  
It sucks that he’ll have to move, but not like there are any jobs in Galveston – not the kind he wants - and Amy’s still got two more years of med school, so they were ready for this. They knew they’d be separated as soon as he finished his Physical Therapy coursework and had to get a real job, but he knows they’ll be fine. Amy’s the kind of girl you can trust with your life, the kind of girl you never have to worry about, never need to question. One hundred percent rock solid, has been since he’s known her, has been her whole life. The kind of girl who’s never gotten a B in school, not even in college, even in O-Chem. The kind who volunteers with Habitat for Humanity twice a month even though she’s crazy busy with Med School, and still never misses church on Sunday. _Ever_.  
  
She’s the kind of girl that got Jensen through a three year PT program in two years, got him back to church, back to living right, back on the straight and narrow. The kind of girl who knows the kind of guy he was before he met her, knows about the drinking, the partying, the women, and who doesn’t judge him.  
  
He’s trying not to worry too much about what he’s going to do without her, about _how_ he’s going to do without her. Part of him is afraid of being left to his own devices again after almost two years with Amy as his moral compass, but another part – maybe a bigger part – is looking forward to a change of pace. A new city, a new place, a new job, and new people; he’s never been big on change, but somehow he feels like he could use it, all of it.

**= = = = =**

  
It’s hot as hell, and the realtor’s makeup is running on her face, but Jensen likes the house none the less. It needs work, but it has everything he wants, and it feels good. It feels like home.  
  
He puts in the offer on a Tuesday, and by Friday he’s officially under contract to become a home owner. The seller wants a short closing, and Jensen’s got no reason to disagree; he’s got the money, thanks to his grandma and her _I’d rather see you enjoy your inheritance while I’m still alive_ attitude toward graduation gifts, he’s got the summer with nothing to do until his new job starts in August, and he’s got a month to month lease on his place in Galveston that he can get out of on two weeks’ notice.  
  
He agrees to close in 21 days, and goes home to pack up.  
  
He can tell Amy’s surprised, maybe even pissed, when she finds out that he’s leaving in three weeks, but she doesn’t say anything other than _wow, that’s fast_ , so he ignores the raised eyebrow and the pinched face. Because sure, she was probably expecting the two of them to have the rest of the summer, so was he, but he had to take the house when he found it, and frankly he’s glad to just have it taken care of and settled.  
  
They pack up his stuff, what there is of it in his tiny one bedroom apartment, and he drives the U-Haul up on a Saturday with Amy following behind him in his truck. In typical fashion, by Tuesday Amy’s got him completely unpacked and organized, has helped him pick some new furniture to fill up most of the extra space he’s got now. She has to be back for work on Wednesday, so Tuesday night they order Chinese and eat at his new dining room table, then they move to the living room and make out for awhile on his new couch. He kisses her goodbye at the airport and tells her he’ll see her this weekend, then he stops at a liquor store and buys a bottle of whiskey, goes home and turns on his new big screen TV, lays on his new couch with a Jack and Coke, and watches ESPN all night.  
  
He feels like a kid away at camp, or like he felt when he first moved away from home.  
  
It’s funny, because he and Amy didn’t live together, didn’t even spend nights together, but they did spend a lot of time together. Like, mostly all his free time, and the prospect of doing what he wants, when he wants is suddenly exhilarating.  
  
He thinks about the one week a year his mom goes to visit his aunt Pam in Hot Springs, how his dad grills steaks and drinks beer every night, and sleeps in on the weekend. And it’s not that Jensen’s mom has ever begrudged his dad a steak or a beer, or sleeping in if he wanted to, but none of those are things that they normally do together. It’s more like tuna casserole, iced tea and Saturday morning chores when Mom’s home, and when she’s gone, those are just his dad’s little nod to asserting his independence while he’s got the chance.  
  
Amy’s never cared about Jensen watching sports just because she’s not into them, or condemned him for having a drink just because she doesn’t, but when he stays on the couch, drinking and watching baseball highlights until three a.m. before heading up his creaky stairs to sleep on his expensive new sheets, he figures he’s kind of doing the same thing his dad does when his mom’s gone.

**= = = = =**

  
Jensen joins a rec league softball team and a grocery co-op. He buys organic fruit and a bicycle, figures he might as well go native as long as he’s here, and goes out for beers with his teammates after their games, something he hasn’t done since college. He spends weeks sanding the old deck on the back of the house and re-painting it, fixing loose floorboards and drippy pipes. It’s nice, working on something that’s _his_.   
  
He drives to Galveston every weekend to see Amy, and in between times he watches as much TV as he wants, plays as many video games as he wants, and drinks as much as he wants, and generally starts to go crazy with boredom.  
  
A guy on his softball team, Vic, asks if anyone has a truck he can borrow to help him move, and Jensen figures what the hell, he’s got nothing better to do. So he helps Vic move out of his crappy place down on Riverside and into his girlfriend’s SoCo townhouse. Vic and his girlfriend spend the whole day making out to a degree that makes Jensen feel totally awkward, and screaming at each other to a degree that makes him feel even more awkward. At the end of the day, Vic feeds him pizza and beer and they make plans to hang out later in the week.  
  
“She’s gonna be driving me completely crazy by Friday, dude. I’m gonna wanna get out of here.”  
  
Jensen just laughs and says he understands, says Vic is welcome at his place anytime.  
  
When Vic and his girlfriend break up three weeks later, he shows up on Jensen’s doorstep with a duffel bag and a guitar.  
  
“So you said anytime, right?”  
  
“Yeah dude, totally. Come on in.”  
  
They break out the guitars and play Willie and Robert Earl Keen songs on the deck, play video games and drink beer. Vic sleeps on the couch for a few nights, until Jensen realizes.  
  
“Dude, you should just stay here. I’ve got that room with nothing in it, and I wouldn’t mind a roommate.”  
  
Vic just grins.  
  
“Damn, man, I thought you’d never ask.”  


 

 

***** _Even Moses got excited when he saw the Promised Land_. *****

  
  
_Fucking car_ , Jared’s thinking, _come on, come on_ , pressing the key back harder like that’s gonna make it turn over. He punches the heels of his hands against the steering wheel and groans.  
  
20 minutes to get to class, already running late and the only fucking reason he was gonna drive to begin with, and this shit has to go down. He swings his backpack off the floor of the passenger side and grumbles, hauling himself up out of the little hatchback that’s _too fucking small anyway, bitch_ , and kicks the door closed behind him. _Maybe_ , he’s thinking as he runs, _maybe if I’m fuckin’ lucky_ , and he just needs to make it over to Speedway in time to catch the IF Shuttle coming by. Otherwise he’s hoofing it all the way to campus, no way he’ll make it in time, and Professor Vassan is. Well.   
  
Yeah, he won’t be happy.  
  
He sees the shuttle as he’s rounding the corner from 41st, _thank God_ , and has to race the bus to the stop at 40th but he makes it, leg jiggling, checking his watch from the front seat all the way until he can finally jump ship from the middle of the bus line-up at the curb and make a run for it. He takes the stairs two at a time up to the bridge and sprints across to CPE, manages to slide in the back and into the seat beside Scotty just as Vassan is doing his usual thing at the podium, straightening his tie and stacking up his notes in little perfectly perpendicular piles, before he looks up and clears his throat, _thank fuck_.  
  
“Dude, what the hell?”  
  
Scotty looks like he just woke up, possibly already wearing the clothes he currently has on – rumpled shorts and a t-shirt with holes under the arm and faded orange lettering proclaiming _I got your longhorn right here_ , below which an arrow helpfully points downward - hair going every which way, and at least two days worth of beard. He eyes Jared’s flushed, dripping face suspiciously.  
  
“Did you fucking _run_ here?”  
  
He says it like running here is the worst possible thing he can imagine, but then Vassan clears his throat and nobody’s stupid enough to talk after that.

**= = = = =**

  
“Come on, man. We’re engineers! I mean, we’re practically fucking engineers. We can figure this out, we can. There’s gotta be some site, fuckin’, I don’t know, _Zen and the Art of Piece of Shit Ford Maintenance_ , or whatever. Are you with me?”  
  
“Yeah, no.”  
  
Scotty’s eating a breakfast taco from the truck outside RLM, dripping grease from the chorizo, shiny orange-tinged stains on his shirt already and not even _faking_ like he’s gonna help Jared out.  
  
“I’m too pretty for manual labor. Not to mention my hands are soft like a baby’s ass. They blister in seconds.”  
  
“It’s not really manual labor, dude. It’s, you know. Working on cars, it’s like, a guy thing. We’ll learn to be all handy and shit, I mean. Hot chicks will come to us to solve all their car problems, and be impressed by our manly car-fixing skills. It’ll be awesome.”  
  
Scotty just shoves the rest of the taco in his mouth and looks at Jared skeptically.  
  
“Manly car-fixing skills? Dude, you must be seriously desperate.”  
  
“Fucking right! The shuttle is one thing, but my internship starts in 6 weeks, and I got no money to get the fucker fixed again! I’ll be riding fucking CapMetro out to Motorola every day? I mean dude, that’s just. No way.”  
  
“I’m feeling your pain, J-man, but I don’t think we can figure out how to fix your car online. Or at least, _I_ can’t.”  
  
“You mean you _won’t_.”  
  
“Well, but my way sounds nicer. Less rude, don’t you think?”  
  
“You’re an asshole.”  
  
“It’s not my fault Whitmans aren’t made for real work. We’re made for sitting at a desk. Inside. In the air conditioning, dude.”  
  
Jared is like, _this_ fucking close to losing his temper, which he never, ever does. He sighs loudly and kicks at a crumpled, empty Texadelphia cup that’s skittering across the sidewalk, and seriously, the bus out to Motorola is gonna mean at least an hour each way. _Each fucking way_.  
  
Scotty’s already backing away, slippery foil wrapper rolling into a ball between his hands as he goes.  
  
“Catch you at softball tomorrow, J-man.”  
  
Jared watches him grin like this is all a fucking joke and is glad he’s too far away to reach because he might get fucking _strangled_ , otherwise; watches him toss the foil sphere into the trash can as he heads off toward the lab building, and Jared’s busy calculating how fucking early he’ll have to get up to get to work on time this summer.  
  
He checks his watch, and shit. Fifteen minutes to get back up to 35th, to see the guy about the place for rent.

**= = = = =**

  
There are dirty jeans sticking out from under an old Chevy truck in the driveway. Jared clears his throat.  
  
“Um. Hello?”  
  
The jeans slide out, attached to a guy with a grease-smeared face and even greasier hands, holding a wrench and squinting up at Jared in the sun. Jared knows he plays on Vic’s softball team in their league at the Austin Sports and Social Club, but he can’t remember ever seeing that face before.  
  
“Hey. Jared, right?”  
  
“Yeah, yeah man. Sorry I’m late, I had some car trouble.”  
  
“No problem man, I got nowhere else to be right now.”  
  
“And sorry, I don’t even. I mean, Jimbo just calls you Ackles, so. I assume you got a first name?”  
  
The guy grins, wipes his hand off on the rag he’s got stuffed in his pocket, then holds it out to Jared.  
  
“Jensen. Nice to meet you.”  
  
Jensen shows him around. The house is small and old, like most of the houses around, gray with white shutters and a red door. It could definitely use some work, but it’s like a thousand times nicer than the rundown duplex Jared’s been living in with Chris and Kelly. The room is big enough for his king size bed, which is his main concern, and the bathroom, though tiny, would be all his. Just imagining a future with a bathroom all to himself - no hair torture devices strung around the room, resting precariously on every surface, no smelly lotion collections or residue of sparkly makeup everywhere – makes him ridiculously happy. He loves Kelly, he really does, but the bathroom part of living with her was not his favorite.  
  
“So you’d pretty much have this back part of the house to yourself. Attic’s converted into a master suite so I’m up there most of the time. I’ve got a desk in that back room, but I’m not in there much. You can move your desk in there if you’ve got one, study in there, whatever you want.”  
  
“That works.”  
  
“Shed in back, room to store some stuff if you need it. Laundry on the side porch here. No off street parking cause there’s only room for one car in the driveway, but Vic’s never had a problem, there’s always plenty of space right in front. And of course, pool’s this way.”  
  
Jared tries to keep his eyes from bugging when he sees the washer and dryer, weekends wasted hauling ass back and forth to Speedway Coin Laundry flashing before his eyes. And when he looks out the kitchen door at the sparkling aquamarine water – forget it.  
  
“God, yeah. That _definitely_ works. What’s rent, again?”  
  
“Four hundred plus bills.”   
  
Jimbo told him that, but after seeing the place Jared thought he must have dreamed it or something.  
  
“Man, that’s. I mean, I pay that now, and my place is a shithole. A shithole with one bathroom for 3 people and no laundry on-site.”  
  
“Yeah well, it’s yours if you want it man. Vic’s outta here at the end of the month, so.”  
  
“Wow, just like that?”  
  
The way his life’s been going lately, Jared really can’t believe he’s getting this lucky.  
  
Jensen grins, shrugs.   
  
“You’re a friend of the Frazier boys - that’s practically family, right? So yeah, why not? Just like that.”  
  
Jared likes him already.  


 

 

***** _I’m for having faith in something that hasn’t happened yet_. *****

  
  
“You ordered dinner?”  
  
“Last Pluckers night for awhile, man. Thought I should treat you.”  
  
Jensen takes the beer Vic’s offering and slides into his usual chair at the table.  
  
“Hot or Medium?”  
  
“Hot, dude, just like you like ‘em.”  
  
“The fried pickles, too?” Jensen pops one in his mouth and grins. “You really went all out, man.”  
  
“Yeah, well. I felt kinda bad ‘cause of how you’re gonna be lost without me and everything. I thought you could justify your tears by pretending it’s just the wings making you cry like a girl.”  
  
Jensen just snorts and rips into the wings with a grin.  
  
He kind of can’t believe Vic’s been here almost a year. It feels like no time; between the crazy hours and travel for work and spending every weekend he possibly can driving back and forth to see Amy, it seems like he’s still getting settled into his new house, his new job, his new city, the whole thing. Jensen’s always been sort of slow to adjust, has always taken awhile to warm up to new people, to feel comfortable in new situations.   
  
Vic, on the other hand, is moving in with a girlfriend for the _second_ time in the year that Jensen’s known him. Jensen tried reminding him what happened last time he moved in with a girl he’d only been dating for two months, but Vic just grinned and shook his head like Jensen was missing the point.  
  
“Gotta go big or go home, buddy.”  
  
Jensen kind of envies him that attitude, even if he thinks Vic is more than a little crazy. He’s been a good roommate, definitely kept life interesting, and it turned out the extra rent money went a long way toward fixing the house up faster than expected. When he realized Vic was serious about moving in with Lisa, he thought about giving up the roommate gig, but it’s kind of nice having someone to keep an eye on things around the house with Jensen out of town so much, so he figured he’d give it another try.  
  
“So this Jared kid, you’re vouching, right?”  
  
Vic opens another couple of beers and hands Jensen one.  
  
“Would I have sent him your way if I wasn’t?”  
  
Jensen raises a skeptical eyebrow.  
  
“It could be a trick; wouldn’t put it past you.”  
  
“Dude, you really think I’d do you wrong like that? I’m insulted.”  
  
Jensen’s eyebrow stays right where it is, unconvinced of Vic’s innocence.  
  
“Look, he’s my brother’s friend more than mine. But he’s managed to put up with Jimbo for the last four years, so I’m sure he can put up with your ass.”  
  
Vic just grins a shit eating grin. Jensen hits him in the face with a stray bottle cap, and doesn’t even feel bad about it.

**= = = = =**

  
Jared moves in three days after Vic leaves. He brings about twelve boxes, all open at the top and leaking all manner of clothing, sports equipment, lamps, books, electrical cables - apparently, everything Jared owns. The only other things he brings are a giant bed and a car that gets dropped off in front of the house by a tow truck. Amy looks skeptical as they watch through the window, and Jensen can just see the wheels turning in her head. He knows she’s trying to keep an open mind, trying not to immediately dislike this virtual stranger with the floppy, messy hair and the obvious lack of organizational skills.   
  
Amy _really_ values organizational skills.  
  
She never liked Vic, not really. She was nice to him, sure, just like she’s nice to everybody. She never actually _said_ she didn’t like him, didn’t need to. Jensen knows her well enough to know she didn’t like the beer and booze in the house, didn’t like him bringing dates home. Once he started dating Lisa and the random women stopped hanging around it got a little bit better, but still, she was never a fan.  
  
Jensen doesn’t know much about Jared other than what he’s heard. Vic said he’s an engineering student with one year left on his five year degree, and Jimbo said that his previous roommates are graduating and getting married, moving into their own place, and apparently didn’t want a tag along roommate crashing their newlywed party. The one piece of info Jared actually provided himself is that he’s got a kid sister also at UT and a brother with Med School debt, so his parents are strapped and he can’t afford to live on his own. In the few minutes of time they’ve actually spent together, Jared seems like a really nice guy, all big smiles and even bigger dimples with a loud, infectious cackle of a laugh and an unruly mop of hair; Jensen’s hoping maybe Amy will approve. And if not, well, he figures he’s usually the one who goes to her, and she’s not really here that often. He’s sure it won’t be a problem.  
  
They watch Jared and his friend struggling with his huge mattress, watch the guy Jensen thinks is named Chris trip on the curb and fall onto the mattress, pinning Jared to the grass underneath. As soon as he hits the ground, Jimbo comes running from the other side of the yard and dives on top of the mattress, yelling.  
  
“He’s down, he’s down! Everybody on!”  
  
Jensen’s used to Jimbo hanging around the house, pestering his big brother, acting pretty much exactly like he’s acting right now. He’s a little more surprised that the two girls that are with them are giggling, plopping down on the mattress and rolling around with Jimbo and Chris, holding down the corners while Jared squirms and huffs underneath them, only his head and one arm visible. Even from inside, Jared’s booming voice is clearly audible.  
  
“You motherfuckers have to get up sometime, and then I’m handing out ass whoopins!”  
  
Amy smiles, her tight little forced smile that means she’s trying hard to remember what Jesus says about judging others. Jensen puts his hand on her shoulder and rubs reassuringly, turns his face away from the scene in the yard to keep from laughing.  


 

 

***** _Get them enchiladas greasy, get them steaks chicken fried.  
Sure do make a man feel happy, see white gravy on the side_. *****

  
  
The engine is turning over, purring like-. Well okay, not exactly like a kitten but maybe more like a not-completely-pissed-off feral cat.  
  
“Dude, it’s totally working!”  
  
Jared revs it a little, and Jensen beats on the side of the car, comes out from under the hood and drops it with a creak and a thud.  
  
“Think you’re good, man, at least for awhile. Might not hold you for long but it should do for now.”  
  
“Sweet! Man, thanks so much. Seriously, _so_ much.”  
  
“You got it dude, no problem.”  
  
Life at Jensen’s has been pretty much as awesome as Jared thought it would be. Sure, the guy is a neat freak, and maybe a little on the reserved side, but Jared can live with that. The first few weeks he didn’t say much, mostly stayed up in his room if Jared was around, and it _was_ a little weird, being basically strangers and all, especially with the two of them home together so much right at first. Jensen doesn’t work much in the summers and Jared had two weeks off between finals and the start of his internship, and Jared might be used to two roommates and a girlfriend sticking their noses into his business pretty much constantly, used to never being alone, but that doesn’t mean Jensen is. Jared also has it on the authority of – well, pretty much everyone who knows him – that he can be overwhelming sometimes, that not everyone wants to be his best friend in the first five minutes, just because he wants to be theirs. So, he tried to be respectful of that, give Jensen a little time and space to adjust, not hit him with the full-on Jared right out of the gate. At first he really couldn’t even tell if Jensen liked him or not.   
  
But the thing is, Jared _likes_ having people around, _likes_ not being alone, and watching TV by himself got boring fast. So he kept his part of the house spotless, did what he could to make a good impression, bribed Jensen with pizza and beer enough times, and he came out of his shell quick enough. Turns out Jensen loves basketball too; they were watching the finals last night, Lakers and Pistons, rooting for Detroit out of their pure, shared hatred for the Lakers, when Jensen threw out the offer to help with the car.  
  
One trip to AutoZone, two hours under the hood and like magic, it’s working after weeks of sitting there, dead and useless, right where the tow truck dropped it in front of the house the day Jared moved in.  
  
Jared insists they get cleaned up and take the car for a spin, insists on paying for the beer and tacos at Guero’s. They sit on the patio in the sticky June heat, laughing and telling stories, sweating and cracking jokes, and it’s only been a month but already Jared can’t believe he ever worried that they might not be friends.

**= = = = =**

  
“I still can’t believe how _nice_ this place is. Seriously, it puts the duplex to shame.”  
  
“I know, right?”  
  
It’s not the first time she’s seen the place, not by a long shot, but she’s still sort of amazed that Jared actually lives here. Frankly, Jared is right there with her.  
  
He wraps his arm around Gabby’s waist and pulls her down onto the huge, soft couch in Jensen’s living room, right into his lap. He kisses her neck, breathes in the scent of her, and groans.  
  
“But let’s try to focus more on me.”  
  
Gabby laughs low, runs her hand through his hair. They’ve had the place to themselves all weekend, but the weekend’s ending, time’s running out.  
  
“When will he be back?”  
  
Jared’s hands are already working the buttons on her shirt, pushing it off her shoulders.  
  
“He always comes in late on Sundays if he’s driving, I think he stays and goes to church with her at night before he leaves.”  
  
“Such a good boy, your roommate.”  
  
She grins and shrugs out of her shirt, pulls at Jared’s t-shirt while his hands move on to work on her shorts.  
  
“Missed you so much, baby.”  
  
“I’ve been gone for two weeks, Jared.”  
  
“Two _loooooong_ weeks.”  
  
He’s got her shorts and underwear down around her thighs, sliding off the couch and onto his knees to suck at the smooth, flat plane of her belly while he pulls them the rest of the way off.  
  
“When you put it that way,” she pants as his mouth moves lower, “I see your point.”  
  
They fuck right there in the living room, afternoon sun slanting through the blinds, then again in the bedroom, and again in the narrow, old-fashioned shower that’s too small for Jared alone, much less the two of them together. It’s impatient and needy, like they may never get another chance.   
  
That’s not true, of course. Gabby’s graduated now, sure, but she’s just gonna be at her parents’ for the summer. In the fall she’ll be at Baylor Law, and Jared seriously doubts the hour and a half of I-35 between Waco and Austin is going to be the end of them.  
  
The end of the pretty much daily sex he’s been used to having for three years? _Yes_ , but he’ll live. It’s not the end of them altogether, no way, and that’s the important thing.  
  
In the morning they’re up early. Jared’s got work and Gabby’s got a long drive back to Harlingen. Jensen comes stumbling down the stairs at the smell of coffee, blushes in his boxers and wife beater when he sees Gabby’s still there; Jared knows he probably expected that she drove back yesterday. She flirts outrageously, Gabby’s good at that - makes Jensen blush even harder with her fluttering eyelashes and honey-thick voice, her thinly veiled innuendo and the way she lets her fingers run over his shoulder as she’s handing him a coffee mug with her other hand. He pours his coffee as fast as he can, calling _drive safe_ back over his retreating shoulder as he heads directly back upstairs. Jared just pokes Gabby in the side and grins as she squirms and giggles.  
  
“I think someone’s got a little crush.”  
  
Gabby has the audacity shrug at him and smirk.  
  
“You’ve seen him, right? I’m taken, not dead.”  
  
Jared just laughs, thinks the girl has a point. Jensen is probably the best looking guy he’s ever seen in real life, and Jared’s way past the point of pretending he doesn’t notice things like that. At least, he’s past pretending to himself.

**= = = = =**

  
It’s a little awkward, if he’s honest, but _damn_ , it feels good.  
  
Jensen’s a professional, this is his job, and Jared knows he’s probably just being weird, but lying in the middle of their living room on a massage table that Jensen dug out of the storage shed in the back yard, half naked while Jensen rubs him down with oil – yeah, it’s a little awkward.  
  
“Right here?”  
  
Jared groans as Jensen’s knuckles dig into his hip, the pain-pleasure of it sucking the air out of him. It takes him a minute to answer.  
  
“Think you found it,” he grunts, and Jensen laughs before he digs in harder. Jared almost blacks out.  
  
He’s been complaining about his hip for weeks now, same old injury flaring up every time he does anything that requires running, from playing hoops with the other interns in the Motorola gym on his lunch break to playing with their newly-formed flag football team at the Sports & Social Club.   
  
Jensen’s professional advice was that he should sit out of their game earlier this morning, based on Jared’s description of the pain and the way he’d been _limping around home like some geriatric_ all week. Jared’s professional advice was for Jensen to go fuck himself. Jensen just laughed, told him _it’s your funeral, asshole_ , and _better not hear you bitching about it later_.  
  
Of course, Jared did bitch about it later. He bitched about it a lot, couldn’t help it, because _shit_ , it fucking _hurt_.  
  
When Jensen came in with the massage table and leaned it against the wall, Jared just raised his eyebrows. Jensen raised his right back.  
  
“What you looking at, Sasquatch? Help me move the coffee table, need room to set this sucker up.”  
  
Jensen made him spend thirty minutes with an ice pack on, called him a pussy when he said it burned.  
  
“The freshman girls on my tennis squad are tougher than you, dude.”  
  
“Doubtful,” Jared hissed and squirmed on the table. “No one’s tougher than me.”  
  
Jensen snorted loudly, and, Jared thought, not a little insultingly.  
  
“They sit fully immersed in tubs of ice water on a daily basis. You’re bitching about a little ice pack. You wanna tell me again how tough you are, big guy?”  
  
Jared decided silence was his best response. When Jensen finally put the heat pack on him, he groaned gratefully.  
  
“Now that’s more like it.”  
  
Thirty minutes with the heat, then Jensen had him pull off his t-shirt and push his shorts down half off his ass, and went to work with the oil. Whatever awkwardness Jared felt at first melted away fast under Jensen’s hands, melted right along with that hard knot in his hip and the clenching, shooting pain that always goes with it.  
  
“Dude, you’re really good at this.” Jared’s trying not to groan out loud anymore, it’s getting embarrassing, but he can’t seem to help it.  
  
“You realize they don’t pay me the big bucks just to look good, right?”  
  
By the time Jensen lets him up from the table, he feels loose like a wet noodle, in _such_ a fucking good way. He insists that Jensen let him buy dinner, as a thank you, but Jensen says he’s already got meat thawing in the sink. Jared’s learned enough already about Jensen’s cooking that his mouth waters at the prospect without even knowing what it is.   
  
“I was gonna fry up some steaks,” Jensen shrugs, “if you want some.”  
  
Jared rolls his eyes, because Jensen should know better by now.  
  
“Dude, come on. Mashed potatoes and gravy, too?”  
  
Now Jensen is the one rolling his eyes.  
  
“Like you can have chicken fried steak without the mashed potatoes? Without the _gravy_? I wasn’t raised by wolves, Jared.”  
  
“Anything I can do?”  
  
“How ‘bout next time I tell you not to play, you don’t play.” He looks at Jared pointedly, adds _jackass_ under his breath.  
  
“Fair enough.” Jared ignores the jackass part, just grins and thinks for what must be the hundredth time in the last few months how fucking lucky he got, finding Jensen.


	3. Chapter 3

 

 ***** _Sometimes we’re sloppy, we’re always loud. Tonight we’re just ornery and locked in the pocket_. *****

  
  
Turns out, Jared isn’t completely useless.  
  
Yes, he’s messy, and no, he can’t cook. Doesn’t know jack shit about cars, either. But he’s good at some things Jensen’s not so good at, like computers and electronics. It’s starting to come in handy.  
  
Jared installed the automatic timer on the pool pump and the new digital thermostat. He set the whole house up with wireless internet and worked some magic so Jensen’s old desktop in the back bedroom and his new laptop can talk to each other, share files, everything. He programmed the new TiVo system, which Jensen had almost thrown against the wall in frustration before handing it over to Jared, and he re-wired some of the original 1920’s sockets in the downstairs bathroom and kitchen to GFCI.  
  
Jensen could have done that last one himself, in his sleep, but it seems to make Jared happy when Jensen lets him help around the house, so he threw the kid a bone. He sounds pretty proud of himself when he calls Jensen downstairs to show him how they can run the blender and the microwave at the same time now, without tripping the breaker for the whole front part of the house.  
  
“Dude, we should totally go out tonight.”  
  
Jared’s pushing chop on the blender, then stop. Chop, then stop, grinning like a lunatic, voice raised over the cacophony of the microwave and blender noise and pointing at the overhead light, which isn’t so much as flickering.  
  
“Right?”  
  
Jensen hasn’t been _out_ , like to a bar, at night, with no purpose other than just to hang out and have a good time, since…well, it’s been years. He goes out for a drink or two sometimes, with teammates after a softball or volleyball game at the SSC, for happy hour with his co-workers once in awhile, but just out, at _night_? For the sake of going out? It’s been so long he can’t really even remember the last time.  
  
“Dude, I think my going out days are over. I’m old y’know.”  
  
Jared looks at him skeptically.  
  
“You’re like, twenty-five.”  
  
“Twenty-six.”  
  
“What _ever_. You’re not old. Not even _close_ to old. There is _no way_ your going out days can be over at twenty-six, dude. Just no way.”

**= = = = =**

  
No matter what anyone says, being drunk is fun. Smoking is also fun, even if it kills you slowly, or whatever. Jensen really couldn’t give a fuck right now.  
  
He’s turned into a fucking _lightweight_ , that’s the first thing he thinks when he stands up from his barstool after two Jack and Coke’s and two beers and feels that muzzy rush through his head and limbs that he hasn’t felt in forever. Two beers and two drinks, and he’s got to concentrate not to sway on his feet? Ridiculous. He thinks about Greg Martinez, how disappointed he’d be in his protégé. He’ll give Jensen so much shit if he ever finds out what Jensen’s been reduced to.  
  
Jensen makes it to the bathroom and back, only to find Jared isn’t where he left him.  
  
At least, he’s pretty sure this is where he left him. Honestly, he can’t be positive, but then he realizes what’s going on.  
  
Two guys are in between him and Jared, got him backed up to the bar, one with a finger in Jared’s chest, leaning drunkenly. Jensen can hear Jared’s voice, low and calm, _dude you got it all wrong_ and _we were just talking, I’ve got a girlfriend, man_. He sees who must be the girl in question pleading with one of the guys, trying to pull him away, but Jensen can’t hear what she’s saying.  
  
Then the guy shoves the girl off his arm and she stumbles back over a barstool, trips and lands on her ass on the floor.  
  
Jensen hears Jared’s surprised _Hey!_ , sees him push the guy back, away from the girl, and immediately knows how this is gonna play out. Jensen’s seen a drunken bar fight or two in his day, and he’s got his arm around the drunk guy’s waist from behind, other arm up around his shoulder, before the guy can make the move on Jared that Jensen knows is coming. The element of surprise, of course, doesn’t last long, and it isn’t five seconds before Jensen, Jared, their two new friends and a couple of other guys who don’t take kindly to a man pushing a woman down in a bar are all rolling around on the dusty floor, punching and kicking and scrapping until the bouncers make it through the packed house and get them all in choke holds.  
  
The two trouble makers are hauled out the back, and the rest of them are less-than-politely asked to leave.  
  
“You sure you’re okay?” Jared gasps at the girl. “Got a ride and everything?”  
  
And she just nods through her tears and sniffs _sorry_.  
  
Out on the street, Jensen can see his breath in the cold night air of late October, can feel the headache coming on, taste the blood in the back of his throat. He should feel worse, should feel fucking _awful_ , but his blood is pumping, adrenaline rushing, and if he’s honest with himself, he hasn’t had this much fun since he left Lubbock more than three years ago.  
  
He looks at Jared, nose and knuckles all busted up, and starts howling. Jared looks back like maybe Jensen’s had his brains scrambled, but only for a minute before he starts laughing too.  
  
“Dude! What the _fuck_ was that?”  
  
“I don’t know! The girl just asked me if I’d order her drink, cause that bartender chick wouldn’t even look her way.”  
  
Jensen spits blood onto the sidewalk, feels the ache in his ribs when he coughs and has to lean against the building for a minute to catch his breath.  
  
“So you weren’t even flirting? _Honestly_?”  
  
“All I was doing was ordering her damn drink! Now if the girl was flirting with _me_ , I can’t help that.”  
  
Jensen snorts, watches Jared adjust his nose with a sickening crack.  
  
“And was she flirting with you?”  
  
Jared’s grin is grotesque, teeth outlined in smeared maroon.  
  
“Dude, _totally_. I mean look at me.”  
  
Jensen rolls his eyes, digs his fingers into the side of his ribcage and grimaces.  
  
“I’m lookin’ at you,” he shrugs, “not seein’ the appeal.”  
  
Jared just laughs, slings his arm around Jensen’s neck. They keep walking, limping and wheezing their way up 6th to Red River, then all the way to 10th before they finally make it to the car.

**= = = = =**

  
Jensen hears the stairs creaking, looks up to see Jared’s head pop up over the railing, eyes wide.  
  
“Fuck! Man, I thought there was an intruder or something. What the hell are you doing up here, trying to scare the shit out of me?”  
  
Jared’s in his work clothes, still interning Tuesdays and Fridays at Motorola even though school has started back up; hair actually combed and pink dress shirt unbuttoned at the neck, sleeves rolled up, khakis and shoes with no laces. It’s so the opposite of how Jared usually looks, all beat up jeans and too-small freebie t-shirts with holes and hair going every which way, fraying cargo shorts and worn out sneakers and faded hoodies, it makes Jensen laugh every time. Jared looks like a freakishly overgrown kid playing dress-up.  
  
“Sorry, dude. Would have told you this morning but I didn’t see you.”  
  
“Uh, there’s this thing called the phone? You should try using it sometime. I almost shot you.”  
  
“You don’t have a gun.”  
  
“I _would have_ shot you. If I had a gun.”  
  
“Fine, okay,” Jensen grins, holds up his hands, the international symbol for surrender. “In future, you’ll be informed of any changes to the schedule before they happen.”  
  
Jared shrugs, grins back.  
  
“That’s all I’m sayin’.”  
  
Jensen’s travel calendar is prominently displayed on the front of the fridge, held in place by a red and black magnet featuring the double-T logo of Texas Tech University. Except on the days when Jared replaces it with an obnoxiously large orange magnet shaped like a longhorn head, and moves Jensen’s double-T around to the side of the fridge, way down at the bottom. Jensen just switches it back when he notices, then Jared changes it again when he notices Jensen’s noticed.  
  
They don’t ever mention it out loud; it’s a silent battle of wills.  
  
Regardless, the calendar is neatly color-coded, work travel highlighted in blue and personal travel in green, and this weekend was green, which pretty much always means the same thing - Jensen’s going to Galveston. It’s there so Jensen sees it every morning, so it’s embedded in his brain, because it’s easy to forget sometimes if he’s coming or going. But, it’s also so Jared knows when Jensen will be home and when he won’t, when Jared needs to take care of watering the lawn and paying the pool guy, and when he doesn’t.  
  
Especially in the fall, when the team is traveling a lot for tournaments, and in the spring when they have conference match play, the green weekends are pretty few and far between. It’s almost unheard of for Jensen to change his personal plans; it’s pretty much understood that any weekend he’s not working he’ll be on a plane or in the car to either Galveston or Dallas, so he can understand Jared’s surprise at finding him home tonight when the calendar is clearly marked in green.  
  
They walk down to Posse East for cheeseburgers and onion rings and beer, watch some mid-major Friday Night Football on the big screens.  
  
“So what’s with you staying home, anyway? Amy have something come up?”  
  
“Nah just, you know. Still got bruises.”  
  
Jensen swore Jared to secrecy on the whole drunken bar-room brawl situation; it’s not that he wants to lie to Amy, it’s just that she’d worry, and there’s nothing to worry about. It was a one-time thing, not like he’s gonna make a habit of it, and he’s fine, it was just a busted lip and a black eye, a few sore ribs.  
  
Jared examines his face, takes Jensen’s chin in his hand and tips it up toward the light, frowns.  
  
“I don’t see any, man. Think you’re good.”  
  
Jensen taps his side, where someone’s boot heel left a purple-black horseshoe with green and yellow fingers snaking out from it, wrapping around Jensen’s middle. Jared just grins.  
  
“How’s Amy gonna know about _that_? I thought you two didn’t –“  
  
He wiggles his eyebrows, smirking, and Jensen can feel his face go hot. He’s not sure how he managed to divulge that particular piece of extremely personal information to Jared, but there’s something about the kid that makes him _talk_ , when Jensen is anything but a talker. It’s disconcerting. And it’s not that he’s embarrassed or ashamed of his relationship, he actually is really proud of Amy and her dedication to her beliefs, her dedication to living God’s word and the way she helps him do the same, and honestly Jensen doesn’t mind the lack of sex. Not usually, at least.  
  
Still. He doesn’t go around _talking_ about it. It’s no one’s business but his and Amy’s.  
  
He shakes his head, rolls his eyes at Jared.  
  
“Just because-” Jensen stops, sighs. “It’s not like we never mess around.”  
  
Jared keeps smirking at him, shoves an onion ring in his mouth.  
  
“Uh huh.”  
  
Jensen turns his beer up, anything to end this conversation. The truth is they do mess around, some, but not that much. Not the kind of messing around where his shirt might ever come off, or God forbid, _hers_. The truth is she really never would have known, the bruise on his face and cut on his lip, the scuffs on his knuckles have healed by now, and there was really no good reason not to drive down tonight like he’d planned.  
  
The thing is, he just didn’t feel like it. He just kind of felt like spending the weekend around the house, relaxing and hanging out and not spending four hours each way in the car, for once. And sure, he might feel a little guilty for lying to Amy, telling her he felt a cold coming on, but he’s not gonna feel guilty about _that_.  
  
“Gabby’s still freaking about that test on Monday, didn’t want me to come up and _distract_ her.” Jared shrugs and stuffs the last of his burger into his mouth. “So here I am.”  
  
He sucks the grease off his fingers and pushes his food away, sighing and patting his belly. Jensen snorts at him.  
  
“Classy.”  
  
Jared just grins.  
  
“Long as we got nowhere to be, I say we get another beer.”  


 

 

 ***** _I figured this was somethin’ I could win, cause the devil was on my side_. *****

  
  
It was only supposed to be a few friends over for beers, something to do on a freezing cold, wet weekend with winter storm advisories keeping Jensen from going to Galveston and Gabby from coming down like they’d planned. Then those friends brought their friends and suddenly it was a full-fledged house party. In the middle of an _ice storm_. The thing is, it wasn’t supposed to get _that_ bad, and drunk people don’t care about things like weather, so no one really even noticed until well after midnight, and by then, everyone still standing was stuck. No way were Jensen and Jared letting anyone out of the house to drive, not on the ice, not after drinking, wasn’t happening.  
  
Chris and Kelly disappeared without anyone noticing, while everyone else was out on the porch breaking icicles off the eves, watching the moon shine off the silvery ground with the kind of wonder that only children of the South can muster up over an inch and a half of snow and ice. After that, Jared went to take a piss, thinking how glad he was Gabby decided not to risk driving down. He felt a little dizzy and wandered across to his room, just to take a little nap, a little rest before he rallied.  
  
He wakes up spread eagled on his bed, shivering, with Jensen standing over him. The house is quiet and dark.  
  
“My bed got hijacked.”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“Your friends took my bed.”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“Well they’re not _my_ friends anymore, not after this.”  
  
“Chris and Kell?”  
  
“Who the fuck else?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“The rest of those assholes took every other couch and bed and _blanket_ in the damn house while I was cleaning up after their sorry asses. And now you have to scoot over because your bed is stupidly huge and you have to share.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, okay.”  
  
Jared scoots, kicks, squirms, trying to get his shoes off and his frozen feet under the covers while simultaneously making room for Jensen, but he’s lying on the comforter and he’s tangled and drunk and confused. Then he feels Jen’s hand on his back, pushing while the comforter is pulled loose from under Jared’s shoulder.  
  
“There, spaz.”  
  
The bed dips and Jensen flops in next to him, face up.  
  
Jared is cold, and Jensen is warm, and so close, and Jared wants to be closer. He burrows under the sheets and blankets, slides up against Jensen, so warm, presses his cold nose against Jensen’s shoulder and _hmmms_ in satisfaction. Jensen doesn’t protest, doesn’t even move, just breathes a deep sigh.

**= = = = =**

  
When Jared lurches awake, he feels queasy and disoriented and the clock says 4:42. It takes him a minute to figure out if that’s a.m or p.m., a minute more to recognize that’s Jensen half underneath him in his bed, and even longer to realize that the sticky-stiff pull in his shorts when he moves his leg is exactly what he’s thinking it _cannot fucking possibly be_.  
  
His crotch is still pressed firmly against Jensen’s hip, his thigh pushed snugly in between Jensen’s legs, and it’s all starting to come back to him now. The cold, the warmth, the slow slide into heat, the lazy rub and press of bodies, the low groans and the easy feeling of familiarity, the complete lack of urgency, the long slow build and the sleepy, sated comedown, breathing against Jensen’s neck, Jen’s hand wide and warm on the back of his t-shirt.  
  
Jared tries not to move the bed too much, sneaks across the hall to take a piss and splashes water on his face, takes his wash cloth from the bar at the back of the shower and cleans himself up as much as he can; it’s a little late at this point. Two glasses of water and four Advil later he slides back into bed and turns his back to Jensen’s sleeping form, carefully keeping a respectable space between them.  
  
Then something in his sleep and booze-addled brain tells him it might be his only chance, so he scoots back until he makes contact, until the heat of Jen’s shoulder and arm press against his back, then he sleeps.

**= = = = =**

  
“Hey, when you guys are done spooning, the inmates are about to riot for their fuckin’ breakfast.”  
  
Jared opens one eye at the sound of Jimbo’s voice at the door, tries to get his bearings. He’s aware of Jensen behind him, feels that they’re back to back now, pressed tight together, and he wonders when that happened.  
  
“You hear me, assholes? We want bacon!”  
  
“Make it yourself, bitches.”  
  
Jensen’s voice is low, filled with grit and gravel. When he grumbles, Jared feels it against his back.  
  
“You’re the ones running this hotel, dude. I know you don’t want to leave your cozy little love nest, but come on. Bacon!”  
  
“Awww, look at them. So sweet.”  
  
Jared closes his eyes and grits his teeth. Now Vic’s here too. They’re never, _ever_ going to let him go back to sleep.  
  
“Ain’t it? You almost hate to wake them.”  
  
“Yeah, almost. Except.”  
  
“Except, bacon.”  
  
“ _Bacon_ , bitches! Come on!”  
  
Jensen groans, and Jared feels it go right through him. _Again_. It sort of makes his breath catch.  
  
“Fine, we’re coming.”  
  
“Yes!”  
  
Jimbo and Vic high five, and take off down the hall celebrating their bacon victory.  
  
“Speak for yourself,” Jared’s protesting, pulling the covers up over his face as he feels Jensen start to move and wondering why things aren’t weirder. Wondering if maybe Jensen just doesn’t remember, then wondering why that thought makes him feel queasy all over again.  
  
“Wrong, my man. Most of these dickwads are your friend anyway.”  
  
“I beg to differ.”  
  
“The truth hurts sometimes.”  
  
“You’ve hung out with them on plenty of occasions when I wasn’t even around. That means you have to claim them, too. Quit blaming them on me.”  
  
The bed sags then rebounds as Jensen rolls out, then a pillow flies at Jared’s head.  
  
“Whatever, dude. You’re still frying the bacon.”

**= = = = =**

  
They go through all the bacon, all the waffle mix and some of the pancake mix too, all the syrup and most of the honey and jelly, and finish off the milk, the OJ, and the Cranapple _Lite_ that Jared makes fun of Jensen for buying.  
  
They sit around bagging on each other and watching _SportsCenter_ replay ad nauseum, going stir crazy and annoying Kelly and Lisa with their belching and farting and wrestling until finally around two o’clock a big chunk of ice falls off the house and onto the front steps with a loud _crack_ , fracturing the thick, solid sheet of the bottom step. They boil water and pour it over the steps and down the front walk, stomping the breaking ice into slush with their boots, and everybody helps scrape windows and kick ice formations away from tires until it’s all clear. Everyone heads off, leaving Jared standing with Jensen in the front yard, feeling just like his mom and dad look when he and Jeff and Megan all drive away from the house after Christmas.  
  
He’s afraid this is going to be it: when the awkwardness sets in. They shower and change, finally, clean up the house, take the trash out to the alley and wind up in a snowball fight, wind up making an anatomically correct snowman out of the sticky, icy mess that’s left in the yard. They spend an inordinate amount of time and effort finding just the right branch to use for his right arm, so that it can support the empty beer bottle they dug out of the trash. Jensen smokes half a cigarette and stubs it out, carefully implants it at the corner of Frosty’s bottle cap mouth. They take pictures with the new digital camera Jared got for Christmas, carry wet firewood in from the pile next to the shed and spend an hour coughing at the smoking wood, poking at the logs, arranging and rearranging them and arguing about the merits of twigs versus newspaper to use for kindling. By five o’clock the temperature is back to freezing, and they’re holed up in front of the fire watching the TNT All-Star pre-game show, laughing at Charles Barkley, eating the grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup that Jensen made, drinking Irish coffee.  
  
Jared’s still waiting for the awkwardness to start.  
  
Instead it all feels normal, comfortable. Domestic, intimate even. And maybe, _maybe_ even just a little bit.  
  
Familial.  
  
Jared can count on one hand the number of snow days the North East Independent School District granted during his tenure as a student, but he remembers them all vividly, the feeling of being suspended in time, his mom and dad and brother and sister all home, no one running off anywhere, no chores to be done or projects to be worked on. They’d play games, watch movies, all eat lunch together around the dinner table like they never did, not even on the weekends. It was like the whole world shut down, and everyone he loved most was right there with him, safe inside their house with the fire blazing and the smell of his mom’s peanut butter chocolate chip cookies baking.  
  
That’s what this feels like, inside the warm cocoon of the house with Jensen, just the two of them, and Jared thinks again that Jensen must not remember last night at all. Because maybe he hasn’t known Jensen that long, but he knows him about as well as he’s ever known anyone, and if Jen remembered, Jared is sure he’d be freaking out, holed up in his freezing cold attic room all by himself, probably praying for absolution. If he remembered, he’d be avoiding Jared at all costs, not cooking him dinner and helping him sculpt a disproportionately large snowman dick.  
  
By the time he’s done with his coffee, Jared has convinced himself maybe he just dreamed the whole thing. He _was_ pretty drunk.

**= = = = =**

  
  
Jared is only vaguely aware of the lights going out, of the TV turning off. He’s warm and comfy, stretched out on the couch, and he didn’t even make it to the end of the game, has no idea if the West pulled it out over the East.  
  
“Bedtime, J-man.”  
  
Jensen’s hand is on his head, just for a minute, that much he’s aware of, and his eyes flutter open.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“You better move to the bed, or you’re gonna regret it in the morning.”  
  
Jared yawns, nods.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Not very convincing, dude.”  
  
“I’m going,” Jared’s eyes close as he says it. “In just a minute.”  
  
He hears Jensen’s sigh as if from far away, hears the creak of the stairs as Jensen heads to bed, thinks _need to get up, need to get up_ , but loses the string, lets it slip away until he’s floating in nothing, then somebody crashes cymbals over his head and he sits up with a start.  
  
“What the _fuck_?”  
  
Jensen is stomping out of the laundry room, look of disgust on his face. Jared vaguely registers that the cymbal crash was really the lid of the washing machine slamming closed.  
  
“Your friends, man.”  
  
“ _My_ friends again? What’d they do now?”  
  
“The degree of bodily fluids that are on my sheets, not to mention my fucking comforter. It’s disturbing, seriously.”  
  
“I can’t believe Kelly participated in anything like that.”  
  
“I don’t even want to think about it. Also? There’s vomit on my pillowcase.”  
  
“Gross.”  
  
“You’re telling me! Fuck, I should have thought to check earlier. Like, every shred of bedding in the fucking place is _defiled_.”  
  
“By my asshole friends.”  
  
Jared manages a cheeky, if sleepy, grin, and Jensen grins back.  
  
“Exactly. So move your ass off that couch, it just became my bed.”  
  
Jared shakes his head, waves a hand as he’s reclining back into his previous position.  
  
“Take mine, I’m already here.”  
  
He can’t remember if Jensen argues or not, he’s already on the way out.

**= = = = =**

  
His feet are propped up on the arm of the couch, inclined so high that they’re tingling, losing feeling, and his neck is aching from being pressed into a 90 degree angle for he can’t even say how long.  
  
Also, he’s freezing again.  
  
He’s not thinking about anything, not thinking about Jensen being in his bed or what happened last time they slept there together, all he’s thinking is he needs to stretch out, he needs his pillow and his warm down comforter, and when he finds Jensen there he just shoves him til he rolls over, and slides in next to him.  
  
Jensen snuffles and sighs.  
  
“Couch not so great after all hmmm…”  
  
“Short. Cold.”  
  
“No shit.”  
  
Jared scoots instinctively closer to Jensen’s heat, sluggish and sleepy. Then he feels Jen scoot too, realizes through a cloud of brain fog that Jensen is moving slowly, almost imperceptibly, but he’s moving _toward_ Jared. Suddenly a jolt of adrenaline spikes his blood, and Jared’s wide awake, hyper aware of Jensen coming closer, able to pinpoint exactly when and where their bodies make contact. It’s like déjà vu, Jensen on his back, Jared curled on his side, Jensen’s arm and shoulder against his chest, Jared’s knee pushed into Jensen’s leg, only this time there’s a voice in Jared’s head that he hears clearly, and it’s chanting _yes, more, closer_.  
  
He sneaks an eye open, and sees that Jensen’s are closed. He watches closely, watches for signs, watches Jensen’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallows and thinks it seems suspicious, then he notices the white knuckle grip Jensen’s opposite hand has on the comforter, and Jared can’t help it, he grins a little, bends his neck a little and lets his forehead roll against Jen’s shoulder.  
  
Jensen is awake, pretending to sleep. He _knows_. He fucking _remembers_ , Jared is almost positive now.  
  
Jared’s fingers are shaking, just a little, when he spreads them over Jen’s chest. He can feel the rapid flutter of the muscles under his hand, but Jen doesn’t move, doesn’t open his eyes.  
  
Jared slides his leg up and over, holding his breath as it comes to rest between Jensen’s, thigh pressed to crotch, and still Jensen doesn’t move.  
  
Jared’s _pretty_ sure, but he’s not _totally_ sure, and he can’t believe any of this; he has to ask.  
  
“Okay?”  
  
He whispers it low, barely audible, into Jen’s neck.  
  
Jensen sucks in a breath, and Jared is sure he’s about to bolt, sure that he’s just ruined a friendship that, if not his oldest and dearest, has quickly become his favorite, and possibly best.  
  
Instead Jen jerks his head, barely; once down, once up, and breathes out slow.  
  
“Okay,” he whispers, without opening his eyes.  
  
It’s not much, but it’s enough.  


 

 

 ***** _They just want everybody to leave ‘em alone while they drink their whiskey  
and roll their own, and they like their music with a little bit of Southern sound_. *****

  
  
Jensen hangs up the phone as he’s walking into the training room.  
  
“Boyfriend?”  
  
Randy grins at him, and Jensen raises an eyebrow.  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“Your boyfriend?”  
  
Jensen just stares blankly.  
  
“Your hetero life partner? _Jared_?”  
  
“What about him?”  
  
Randy gestures with his hands in made-up sign-language, and speaks slowly like maybe Jensen is impaired in some way.  
  
“Was. That. Him. On. The. Phone?”  
  
It was, actually, but Jensen suddenly doesn’t feel like saying so.  
  
“Amy.”  
  
Randy looks like he’s already bored of this conversation. He just shrugs.  
  
“Can you finish those purchase orders I left for you before you go?”  
  
“You bet man.”  
  
“Okay, I’m outta here. Call me if you guys decide to go out, I could go for a drink.”  
  
Jensen doesn’t even bother to answer.  
  
And okay, maybe it’s not the first time some jackass friend of theirs has called Jared his boyfriend; that’s not even the point. The point is why Randy would assume any time he’s on the phone that it’s Jared, and also assume that whatever he’s doing tonight, he’s doing it with Jared. They’re not attached at the hip; it’s not like they do everything together.  
  
Not _everything_.  
  
But Jensen isn’t stupid, he’s not even in denial; he knows, okay. He knows that when Vic was his roommate, they were friends, good friends – they hung out, they got along, but. It wasn’t like it is with Jared.  
  
And that’s not even counting the other thing that’s been going on with Jared, which is just. _Yeah_.  
  
Jensen doesn’t know what to make of _that_.  
  
The thing that freaks him out most is that he’s not really freaking out, and the only thing he’s feeling guilty about is not really feeling guilty.  
  
It’s not like that time in college, with that guy, the incident that Jensen has spent years trying never to think of, the memory that still makes his stomach churn if it accidentally crosses his mind. Jared, the things they do – it feels nothing, _nothing_ like that.  
  
With Jared it doesn’t feel threatening, or uncomfortable; it’s not so aggressive, not nearly so. _Blatant_. With Jared it’s just something that happens sometimes. They don’t plan it, they don’t talk about it, they don’t worry about it. Jensen’s crazy busy with work, Jared’s got school and his internship to keep up with, they both have girlfriends who live far away, they both need to blow off some steam once in awhile. Sometimes they play video games, sometimes they have a few drinks, sometimes they smoke a little weed, and sometimes they do _that_.  
  
Jensen knows sin is sin and there’s no explaining it away. He believes it’s simple, right is right and wrong is wrong, knows it like he knows the sky is blue, but he also knows he does things he shouldn’t every single day without having a breakdown over it. Every time he tells his mom he has to go when he really just wants to get back to his video game, every month he watches the HBO which magically appears on his channel list with no charge on his cable bill, those are sins too, technically; lying, stealing, and he knows how weak he is, doesn’t need any reminders. The nature of human beings is to sin, it’s built right in, it’s expected, and when he prays at night, he has no problem believing his transgressions are forgiven. Even the ones with Jared, somehow, don’t seem particularly more or less shameful than any of the other questionable moral decisions he makes on a daily basis.  
  
Not that Jensen has spent that much time thinking about it.

**= = = = =**

  
Jensen looks up when the door slams, sees Jared kicking his shoes off in the front hall. He plunks his messenger bag down on the dining room table where Jensen’s looking at some MRI results. Beale’s elbow still isn’t looking great, and frankly Jensen’s at a loss for where to go next with his treatment. He scrubs his hand over the back of his head and scowls at the image in front of him.  
  
“You look stressed.”  
  
Jared’s digging through his bag.  
  
“Yeah, I guess.”  
  
Jensen doesn’t look up.  
  
“Remember when I said my friend Sanjiv had some really good shit?”  
  
A pungent baggie of dark green bud lands under Jensen’s nose, right on top of the scan. When he looks up, Jared’s untucking his work shirt, big grin on his face, dimples out in full force.  
  
“Doesn’t Motorola have a policy about illegal drug trafficking on company grounds?”  
  
Jared ignores him.  
  
“I’m thinking we grill some steaks, smoke a little, maybe some Madden later?”  
  
Jared’s already backing out of the dining room, unbuttoning his shirt as he goes, calling back at Jensen as he ducks into his bedroom.  
  
“Fire up the grill, I’ll be out in a few.”  
  
Jensen’s exhausted, had been thinking about pouring himself a bowl of cereal and heading upstairs, calling it a night.  
  
_But_.  
  
He sniffs at the baggie, turns it over in his hands and figures Jared’s idea sounds okay, too.  
  
He lights the grill, lets it heat up. Leaves the patio doors open to let in some of the fresh April air, defrosts some steaks and massages some Grub Rub into them, then heads back out. Jared’s already at the picnic table on the deck, rolling up a jay. Jensen smells it when Jared sparks up behind him.  
  
“Fuck, that’s good.”  
  
Jensen grins at Jared’s choked voice.  
  
“Well quit hoggin’ it. Selfish.”  
  
They pass it back and forth while the steaks sizzle, Jared puts some Vaughan Brothers on the cd player they keep on the picnic table, then stands up. He steals the jay from between Jensen’s lips, takes one more long hit, then hands it back.  
  
“We still have that Texas Toast in the freezer, right?”  
  
“Think so.” Jensen shrugs. “I’m not the one who eats it 6 pieces at a time.”  
  
“I’m a growing boy, don’t hate.”  
  
Jared wanders inside and leaves Jensen to stare up at the sky and smoke. He loves this time of year, loves how the time change makes the evenings feel longer, like there’s more time after work to relax and hang out. He breathes deep, smells the weed and the steaks and the chlorine from the pool, the grass turning green, bluebonnets growing in the corners of the yard, and this day feels so much _better_ all of a sudden.  
  
Jared brings out salad and bread and plates and knives and forks and beer. Jensen’s pretty impressed; usually Jared’s just in charge of the beer, at most. They finish eating and go lay in the lounge chairs by the pool with their beer, finish the jay as the sun finally sets. Jared gets giggly, like he always does when he’s blazed, his eyes heavy-lidded as he laughs at nothing, scrutinizing Jensen’s face.  
  
“Your face looks funny when you’re high.”  
  
“Back at ya champ.”  
  
“Still looks better than when you’re stressed, though.”  
  
Jensen snorts.  
  
“Thanks. Or something.”  
  
Jensen’s phone rings, Amy’s smiling face popping up on the display, but he’s too relaxed, too high to talk to her. He lets the voicemail pick it up.

**= = = = =**

  
Jared’s wearing his new Ginobili jersey, still beating his thunder sticks together and grinning like a kid.  
  
“Dude! How glad am I that we came to game 2 and not game 1?”  
  
“I’m guessing pretty glad.”  
  
“All that bullshit about how we can’t hang with the Nuggets, man. No way. No _way_.”  
  
They head out of the SBC Center and back toward the car, Jensen letting Jared ramble on. It was actually a shitty game, 30 point wins tend to be pretty boring even if it’s your team doing the winning, but Jared didn’t seem to notice. When the Spurs won their division and got the second seed in the West, then went out and lost game 1 of their first round play-off series, Jensen though Jared might actually cry. He felt like he had to buy the tickets for tonight, just to keep the kid off suicide watch.  
  
It’s not like Jensen’s rolling in the dough, exactly, but compared to Jared he’s Bill fucking Gates. So he bought the tickets, told Jared to consider it a late Christmas present, early birthday present, whatever, but just shut up about it. So maybe he’s not a Spurs fan, that’s okay. He figures they can go to another game when the Spurs and Mavs meet in the Conference Finals.  
  
They stop at Whataburger in San Marcos for taquitos, don’t get back home until after one a.m. Jensen’s already changed his clothes, brushed his teeth, is just about to slide into bed when Jared calls up the stairs.  
  
“Hey, Jen? You wanna watch the highlights from the other games? I recorded _Inside the NBA_ on my TV.”  
  
Jensen stops cold halfway between his bathroom and his bed, has to think for a minute before he answers.  
  
Jared’s got a dinosaur of a TV that sits on his dresser, and he records all the Spurs games on his VCR so they don’t interrupt anything they’ve got programmed on the TiVo. Eighty-two games a year, there are bound to be conflicts, but when they watch games together, they’ve always watched on the big screen in the living room.  
  
The first time Jared said he was gonna watch in his room, Jensen didn’t think much of it. It took a few more games, took Jensen wandering in and sitting down on Jared’s bed, grumbling _what the hell are you doing in here_ then getting sucked into the game without realizing Jared never really answered; it took lounging on the bed, yelling at the TV like usual, took Jared turning the TV off as soon as the buzzer sounded, raising up on his elbow next to Jensen and looking down at him before Jensen realized. Took Jared’s breath on his neck and thigh pressing down between Jensen’s legs, his hand fisted in Jensen’s t-shirt and groin pressed tight up against Jensen’s hip, rutting and pushing, for Jensen to understand; _this_ is what Jared wanted all along.  
  
Jensen scrubs his hand over the back of his hair and screws his eyes shut, trying to think. He doesn’t want to take too long to answer, that would make it weird. Then again, the fact that he knows what Jared _really_ means and it’s got nothing to do with watching play-off highlights, that’s already pretty fucking weird, so.  
  
He takes a deep breath, looks at his bed. He should just go to sleep, he _really_ should.  
  
“Jen? You hear me, man?”  
  
Jared’s voice is all bravado, but Jensen can hear the uncertainty underneath, and it makes his chest tighten up, makes something in him want to reassure the kid.  
  
“Yeah, yeah I heard you.” He swallows past the lump in his throat. “Be right down.”


	4. Chapter 4

 

***** _Make big money, put it in the bank. That longhorn Caddy got a great big tank_. *****

  
  
Jared doesn’t care what his friends say, his new car is bad _ass_.  
  
It’s so big he can actually fit inside without bumping his head against the roof, it has a stereo system that can shake the whole block, it’s got a _San Antonio Spurs World Champs ’05_ sticker already proudly displayed in the back window and a _Texas Exes_ license plate frame, and Jared is in fucking _love_.   
  
He’s been working at Dell for six weeks now, an actual, real, grown-up job. He’s a fucking engineer, all graduated and everything, and he used his second paycheck as a down payment on the truck. He drives practically right by Chris and Kelly’s place on his way home now; he’s stopping to have dinner and let them admire his new baby.  
  
“Dude.” Chris is out in front of the little house they’re renting up at Burnet and Koenig, watering the flower beds. “You did _not_ buy an Escalade.”  
  
“Dude,” Jared grins as he slams the door, “you are _not_ watering flowers.”  
  
Chris ignores him.  
  
“You gonna trick it out, get some spinners?”  
  
Jared can play that game, too. He keeps walking for the front door, doesn’t even pause.  
  
“Where’s your wife? I always liked her better anyway.”  
  
Kelly makes Chris’s mom’s enchiladas for dinner. Jared grew up on these enchiladas, hasn’t had them since he was about 19, and he forgot how _good_ they are.  
  
“I gotta get that recipe, man.”  
  
Chris and Kelly both stop with forks halfway to their mouths.  
  
“You want a recipe?” Kelly raises an eyebrow. “No offense Jare, but it involves more than two ingredients, and you can’t make it in the microwave.”  
  
“No worries, I can get Jen to make ‘em for me.”  
  
Chris groans.  
  
“Oh right, I forgot you have a wife of your own now.”  
  
“Uh huh,” Jared just keeps shoveling the food in, grinning, “and he’s an awesome cook.”  
  
“Not to mention, smokin’ hot.”  
  
Jared points at Kelly, nods.  
  
“That, too.”  
  
“Does Gabby know she’s being replaced by a dude?”  
  
Chris is smiling, it’s just a fucking joke, and Jared manages to do the same. But honestly, it hits a little close to home.  
  
In the car on the way home, he turns the music down and calls Gabby. She doesn’t answer, but he leaves a message, tells her he misses her and he loves her, he wants to come see her this weekend. He’s not sure the last time they actually talked, but it’s been a few days, at least. He thinks it’s maybe been over a month since they’ve seen each other, can’t really remember exactly; it got easier and easier to lose track, somehow, over the past year. She hasn’t seemed unhappy, hasn’t seemed mad, has seemed perfectly fine with the relationship despite the way they’ve sort of drifted of late, so he hasn’t worried about it.  
  
Now, for the first time he wonders if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

**= = = = =**

  
Jensen didn’t have to say it - Jared knows Amy was none too happy that Jen decided to come camping with them instead of going to Midland with her to visit her family this weekend. Jared doesn’t know Amy that well, she seems like a nice girl, definitely hot, but definitely straight-laced and definitely, uh. _Rigid_ ; that’s the best word Jared’s got for her. Everything’s very black and white with her, you’re either right or you’re wrong.  
  
And Jared’s got no doubts that Jensen’s choice this weekend was _wrong_.  
  
But Jensen’s a grown ass man, he makes his own decisions, and Jared’s not gonna feel bad. Jared’s too fucking _excited_ to feel bad.  
  
He spent about a million dollars at REI, psyched that he actually _has_ a million dollars – give or take – to spend now, that he can buy whatever he wants. And what he wanted was a sweet new tent, a camp stove, a new coffee pot, some super-padded sleeping bags, and a couple of top of the line coolers. It’s all packed up in the back of his new truck, Jensen riding shotgun and Scotty and Coop in the back seat. Jimbo, Jordan and Chris are riding with Chen right behind them, heading West out 71 to Enchanted Rock, and Jared can’t _wait_.  
  
They get to their campsite, break out the beer before they even break out the tents, trek to the top of the Rock and take in the view of the Hill Country. They head back down as the sun’s setting, cook brats and hot dogs on the fire, and the beer turns into whiskey.  
  
It’s hot as hell in Texas in July, even at three a.m. it’s still 85 degrees and muggy. Jared’s sweaty and sticky, shirt off and cargo shorts molded to his legs like soggy cardboard when he and Jordan, last men standing, finally stumble to bed.  
  
Jensen’s already asleep in Jared’s new tent, snoring on top of the thick sleeping bag Jared bought just for him. Jared pulls his shorts off and lies down in his boxers.  
  
“Finally gave it up?”  
  
Jen’s voice is ragged and low.  
  
“Looks like.”  
  
“What time is it?”  
  
“Like three, I think.”  
  
“Oh, hey.” Jensen reaches over and slugs him, but his fist loses steam and just rests there against Jared’s chest. “Happy Birthday.”  
  
“Oh yeah.” Jared grins, drunk and happy. “Where’s my present, bitch?”  
  
And Jensen must be even more wasted than Jared, because instead of just snorting and going back to sleep, like Jared expects, he scoots closer in the dark.  
  
“Depends.”  
  
They’ve never really done anything but rub against each other, fully clothed; they’ve never even touched, not _really_. But now when Jared reaches over his hand finds Jensen’s bare skin, clammy in the humid heat. The whiskey makes his blood feel hot, makes his head swim, makes touching Jensen seem less like a risk and more like a necessity. His fingers slip under the waistband of Jensen’s shorts, shaking as Jensen’s stomach flutters and clenches under them.  
  
Jensen lets out a low moan, rolls toward him, and Jared figures that’s all he needs to know. He pulls Jen right up against him, feels him skin on skin for the very first time, hisses at the contact. He feels Jen’s arm wrap around, his fingers clutching at Jared’s back, his mouth open and wet, moving against Jared’s shoulder, his neck, and that’s definitely, _definitely_ never happened before. Jared stops worrying, stops thinking, just shoves his own shorts down, shoves Jensen’s down too, and grinds their hips together, skin to skin, dick to dick.  
  
“Oh fuck. _Jared_ , fuck.”  
  
Jensen pants against his neck, fingers just clutching harder, and it gives Jared a hot thrill, making Jensen lose his shit enough to actually _speak_ , however low and choked and barely audible it may be. He squeezes tighter, pulls harder, wraps Jensen up in his arms as close as he can and lets himself taste that hot, salty, smoky skin. He’s not sure if it’s allowed, not sure if this is going to ruin everything, but when they both come hot and hard, slick and messy between their bare bellies, he’s too drunk and too happy to care. So far, being twenty-three is fucking _awesome_.  


 

 

***** _At a dancehall down in Texas, that’s the finest place to be. All the women,  
they all look beautiful and their men will buy your beer for free_. *****

  
  
Jensen can feel his shoulders burning, sun beating down, skin baking even through the 30 SPF, even though it’s late September and it’s completely unfair for it still to be this _hot_. He’s got his shades on and his cap pulled down, rapidly warming beer stuffed into a _Howdy Chevrolet_ koozie, cradled between his ribs and his tube. He drags his fingers in the cold water, splashes some up across his chest and thighs and wishes fervently he’d brought a t-shirt, no matter how much shit he would have gotten for wearing it. Scotty and Coop come paddling by, dragging the beer cooler between them, perched on its own tube.  
  
“Here, bitches.”  
  
Scotty shoves the beer tube in the general direction of Jensen and Jared, who’s floating just behind him.  
  
“Your turn to babysit.”  
  
“Hey!” Jared yells, and flings a wave of water in Scotty’s direction with his foot. “The tube chute is coming up!”  
  
Coop laughs, paddling by.  
  
“We know.”  
  
The Guadalupe is a long float; Jensen and his ghost-white skin could have been just as happy with the San Marcos or even the Comal, but he was voted down, so here he is, wrangling the beer tube through the bumpy rapids of the tube chute and turning into a tomato with another two hours still to go before they reach their take out point.   
  
He can practically _feel_ the new freckles forming.  
  
Jared is whooping and laughing his way over the rapids, shoving the cooler along with his feet while Jensen tries to keep hold of it from the front. He’s wearing a straw cowboy hat, pink flowered board shorts, white zinc on his nose and lips, and fluorescent orange mesh water shoes. He looks utterly ridiculous.  
  
He catches a fast current and comes whizzing by Jensen with his arms in the air like he’s on a rollercoaster, his jubilant _wooooooooo_ carried away on the wind. Jensen grabs for the beer tube that Jared left stranded, and grits his teeth.  
  
When Jensen finally makes it through the chute and into calmer waters, beer in tow, Jared takes one look at the firmly un-amused line of his mouth and paddles over.  
  
“Sorry, man. Sometimes you just gotta ride the wave when it takes you, ya know?”  
  
Jensen snorts and remains stubbornly silent, but Jared just grins. He grabs Jen’s foot and hooks it over the edge of the beer tube, then wraps his arm over Jensen’s calf and the tube, hooking them all together.  
  
“There, we got it. Right?”  
  
He flashes his dimples and holds out a fresh beer, and Jensen grudgingly gives a short nod, hating Jared a little for the way those fucking dimples let him get away with murder.  
  
They’re another thirty minutes down-river before he realizes Jared’s thumb is stroking back and forth over his ankle, hand resting on Jensen’s foot. It suddenly feels too hot, stifling to be touching like that, Jared’s skin sweating on his.  
  
“Hey,” he jerks his foot out of the beer tube, out from under Jared’s arm, and paddles up even, “it’s time for the Frazier boys to play babysitter, don’t you think?”

**= = = = =**

  
Jensen’s leaned against the bar just waiting, figuring the bartender will have to look his way sometime. He taps his roll of bills on the scarred wood and runs a hand through his dirty hair. He still smells like sweat and sunscreen and river water, but judging from the crowd on the river this afternoon and the line of people waiting to change clothes in the gas station bathroom where they stopped after they got off the water, Jensen has a feeling they weren’t the only ones who decided to fit in a day of tubing before the show tonight. At least if he smells, he’s not the only one.  
  
“You’d think they’d know it was gonna be slammed tonight, huh?”  
  
The guy next to him is leaned over the bar, bills fanned out, waving them every now and then, trying to catch someone’s eye.  
  
“Seriously.” Jensen sighs. Pat Green playing at Gruene Hall, and there’s only one guy working this bar? Seems like piss-poor planning, as far as Jensen’s concerned.  
  
“You get sent on the beer run?”  
  
Jensen’s not really paying attention, and it’s fucking loud in here.  
  
“Sorry?” He looks at the guy and leans in.  
  
“Just wondering if you’re on your own.”  
  
The guy’s leaning closer but not looking at him, eyes kind of shifty or something. Jensen doesn’t know what the hell, he’s just hoping he’ll get his whiskey and be able to shove his way back to his friends before the show starts.  
  
“On my own? Uh, yeah. Just trying to get a fuckin’ Jack and Coke.”  
  
The guy grins at him, looking sort of antsy, holds his gaze for a minute. Then he puts his hand over Jensen’s money, over Jensen’s _hand_ on the bar, and leans closer.  
  
“Let me get it for you?”  
  
Jensen’s just realizing what’s going on here when he feels a hand on his shoulder, can tell immediately it’s Jared. He jerks his hand off the bar like he touched fire, looks back to see Jared staring down at the place where his hand had been, where the other guy’s hand still is, and Jensen feels his face start to burn.  
  
The guy looks up at Jared, at Jared’s hand still on Jensen’s shoulder, and clears his throat.  
  
“Sorry, I, uh.” He’s addressing Jared, Jensen realizes, and that just makes it _worse_ , somehow. “I was just leaving.”  
  
The guy disappears, and Jared’s hand is still on Jensen’s shoulder. He shrugs it off, hard; he doesn’t want Jared touching him. He doesn’t want anyone fucking touching him, and what makes people think they can fucking _touch_ him today?  
  
“Dude.” Jared moves next to him, eyes wide. “Was he like-“  
  
“Shut up, Jay. Seriously, just shut up.”  
  
Jared grins, like it’s a joke, smacks Jensen on the back.  
  
“Leave it to you to get picked up by a guy in a country bar, man. Gruene fucking Hall!”  
  
He knows Jared’s just giving him shit, but Jensen really, really doesn’t feel up for it right now. He doesn’t say anything, just leans over the bar further and waves his money at the guy, a little frantically.  
  
“Jen, come on, I’m kidding!”  
  
Jared’s still grinning, Jensen can hear that much, but he’s not looking back. He can still feel the blush on this face, and maybe he’s being ridiculous, maybe he should be able to laugh it off, but he’s stuck on wondering _why_. Why he’s the one, out of everyone in this place, that this random guy decides to hit on, like he sees something, like there’s _something about Jensen_ that makes him think maybe he’s got a shot or whatever.  
  
Jensen knows it’s shouldn’t bother him, but it does.

**= = = = =**

  
“You gonna come watch _SportsCenter_?”  
  
The house is dark and quiet; Jensen’s never been so glad to be home. No matter where he went at the club, he was afraid he was gonna see that guy again; it made his skin crawl, he couldn’t even enjoy the show. Now all he wants to do is climb into his bed and wait for the weird unsettled feeling that’s gnawing its way through his guts to go the fuck away.   
  
He stops at the bottom of the stairs, looks at Jared in the dim porch light filtering through the tiny crescent of windows at the top of the front door.  
  
“Nah, I’m tired.”  
  
“Are you-” Jared stops, like maybe he’s thinking better of it, but then goes on. “Are you pissed at me or something?”  
  
Jensen sighs.  
  
“I’m tired Jay, that’s all. Okay?”  
  
Jensen’s been watching _SportsCenter_ in Jared’s room pretty much every night. They still don’t talk about it, about what happens _after_ , when Jared turns the TV off and they’re left there in his bed, in the dark. The trip to Enchanted Rock in July broke some invisible barrier that had been there before, and now there’s more. _Touching_. It’s more involved, somehow, more frequent, and it’s only getting worse with the passing weeks. It’s getting less easy for Jensen to convince himself nothing’s really happening, that it’s really no big deal.  
  
Most mornings, he tells himself last night should probably be the last time, at least for awhile; that it’s okay if he does it sometimes but he shouldn’t be getting this carried away. But most nights, he finds himself in Jared’s bed again, under the pretense of watching TV when they both know better, like there’s not a big couch and a huge TV out in the living room they could watch instead. Some mornings lately, he’s found himself still there when he wakes up, sliding out of bed as quietly as he can and sneaking up the stairs before Jared wakes up, too, and they have to deal with _that_ fucked up situation on top of everything else.   
  
At this point, if he’s honest, it’s way more out of the ordinary for him to go to his own bed at the end of the night than to Jared’s, and somehow tonight, finally, it’s actually hitting him, what that means. Suddenly tonight it’s all just _too much_. He doesn’t want Jared to think he’s pissed, but he suddenly feels a huge, terrifying spike of panic at the thought of going to Jared’s room. He just needs some space, room to take a deep breath and fucking think for a minute.  
  
He needs to figure out what the fuck he’s doing, what he _should be_ doing, and he can’t figure out jack shit laying in the dark next to Jared, smelling his skin and feeling his heat. He can’t figure out jack shit when his dick’s already hard with anticipation before _SportsCenter_ ’s even halfway through.  


 

 

***** _What do they say about a small town? Take the boy out of Bandera, not the other  
way around. I don’t know but man it’s true, those bright lights’ll get you down_. *****

  
  
The pounding on the door is loud, insistent. Jared drags himself off the couch slowly, through the dark hall, peers out the window at the top of the door, ready to tell whoever it is _we don’t want any_.  
  
Megan’s smiling up at him. Just great. He opens the door warily.  
  
“Hello to you, too, sunshine.”  
  
She pushes past him, arms full of bags, and heads straight to the kitchen.  
  
“Guess good news travels fast?”  
  
“Mom just thought you could use some company.”  
  
“Of course she did.”  
  
“We knew Jensen was out of town, and we just didn’t want you on your own. Valentine’s weekend and all, that’s kinda brutal.”  
  
“I’m fine, Megs. Honestly, you didn’t have to-“  
  
He stops when he sees her unpacking foil-wrapped cylinders from a greasy bag. Megan just smirks at him.  
  
“Thought this might shut you up.”  
  
“Taco Shack?”  
  
Megan hands one over with a flourish.   
  
“But of course. Mom authorized the use of the credit card; desperate times.”  
  
They eat the tacos and drink the Tecate Megan brought with her, while Jared rehashes the events of the past twenty-four hours. It’s nobody’s fault, sometimes things just don’t work out. Lives going different directions, it’s easy to drift apart, it’s hard to do the long distance thing; it’s nothing new, nothing original, nothing earth shattering. Sure, it’s been almost five years of his life with Gabby, and now that’s it, it’s just over and there’s nothing to show for it but the earrings he bought her for Valentine’s Day that he never got to give her. That’s the hardest part, somehow; thinking about returning those fucking earrings, thinking about the guy who helped him pick them out asking what went wrong, why she didn’t like them.   
  
But Jared knows Gabby had a point when she said it probably should have bothered them more to be apart; if they really wanted it to last, they would have worked harder at it. Jared didn’t ask too many questions, didn’t ask if there was someone else. The truth is he didn’t really want to know. He just got back in the truck and drove home, and he’s a little embarrassed that he called to whine to his mom about it, but he didn’t know she was going to call in the cavalry.  
  
He probably should have.  
  
Megan also brought the DVD of A _Christmas Story_.  
  
“You do know it’s February?”  
  
“So? It’s still your favorite movie and don’t front like it’s not.”  
  
Jared just grins. Maybe it’s not so bad that she came, after all.  
  
They watch the movie, drink more beer. When it turns out Megan brought candy, too, Jared changes his opinion from _not so bad_ to _glad she came_. She spends the night, cooks him breakfast in the morning, makes sure Jensen will be home tonight before she can be convinced to leave him. She also makes him hand over the earrings.  
  
“Anyone asks, I’ll just pretend I’m your girlfriend and I don’t want to hurt your feelings by telling you I’m returning them.”  
Jared hugs her tight.  
  
“Did anyone ever tell you you’re okay, for a bratty little sister?”

**= = = = =**

  
“Where the fuck is this place, exactly?”  
  
Jensen’s voice is tinny and far-away sounding; the cell reception out here isn’t all that it could be.  
  
“It’s like, halfway between Kerrville and Bandera.”  
  
Jensen snorts.  
  
“Oh right. How could I have missed a major tourist destination like that?”  
  
Jared actually is kind of surprised Jen’s never been to Camp Verde before. It’s where the Fraziers’ ranch is; Jared’s been with Jimbo a million times. It’s been awhile since he’s been out here, but getting out of town, out to the country seemed like just what the doctor ordered. Jared needs to clear his head of all the crazy shit that’s been running through it ever since the thing with Gabby. Plus, the TV at the ranch is the biggest one Jared’s ever seen, and the ‘horns are playing in the Sweet Sixteen this weekend, so that’s all he needed to know when he got the invite.   
  
Jensen had to work today, tennis team had a home match with OU, so he’s coming a day later than everyone else.  
  
“I don’t know man, it’s getting’ kinda late and I don’t know where the hell I’m going.”  
  
Jared knew, he _knew_ Jensen was gonna try to get out of it, but he’s not having it, no way.   
  
“Come on! We’re waiting for you to bring more beer, and your guitar. You have to come.”  
  
Jensen sighs. Jared can just imagine him rubbing the back of his head, and it makes him smile.  
  
“How far is it, again?”  
  
“Like two hours, give or take.”  
  
Jensen’s quiet, and Jared knows he’s got him now. He talks Jen all the way to Johnson City just to make sure he doesn’t pull any crap and turn around, then goes back out into the yard where the bonfire’s going. Chen and Jimbo are still pitching horseshoes with Chris and Jordan, even though it’s almost dark, and the girls are all in the giant freakin’ hot tub. Scotty and Coop are hanging around the fire with Vic and a couple of his friends, standing in a line, holding their beer and not talking like something out of _King of the Hill_. Jared sits down at the picnic table and rolls up a jay, then wanders over to the pool, lays in a lounge chair and checks out the girls while he smokes.   
  
Kelly brought a friend from work, Jared can’t remember her name, but she’s cute, seems nice. Cooper’s girlfriend Candace brought her friend too, Katie he’s pretty sure. She’s just his type, petite, dark hair, dark eyes, big smile, and she’s rockin’ that bikini; Jared has definitely noticed. Part of him is thinking he should get over there, knock some of the rust off his game, flirt a little and see how it goes.   
  
The bigger part of him, though, is just killing time until Jensen gets here, and he’s not even trying to kid himself anymore; he knows this has been going on since before he broke up with Gabby, knows there were weekends he didn’t go to Waco to see her just so he could stay home and hang out with Jensen. He also knows Jensen has a girlfriend, who he loves, but that doesn’t seem to matter much to the voice in the back of Jared’s head that keeps saying _so did you_.  
  
He knows he’s not imagining this, knows there’s something there beyond just friends who fuck around sometimes, something that runs deeper, hotter; God knows he’s never done the shit he does with Jensen with any of his other friends. But he doesn’t know if Jensen even realizes it, doesn’t know if Jensen would ever _let_ himself realize it, and even if he did, Jared’s not sure what that would mean.   
  
If he tries to imagine it – actually going there with Jensen, how it would be, how it _could be_ if that ever really happened – he ends up so overwhelmed with equal parts terror and exhilaration that his stomach flips over, his head spins.  
  
So he doesn’t even try, he just takes a big, long toke, and holds his breath.

**= = = = =**

  
They get back to the house around two a.m. and find Vic and Lisa having sex in the hot tub. They just scared the living hell out of the cattle in the South pasture with their drunk four-wheeler races in the dark, but that’s just part of the fun of being at the ranch. They’re covered with dirt and mud, grass and sweat, and they dive in the pool fully clothed, liquor keeping their blood warm even though the water’s freezing. Lisa disappears, red faced, into the house, but Vic just whoops and swan dives naked from the hot tub straight into the pool.  
  
Jensen’s shivering in the shallow end, laughing his head off, laughing harder maybe than Jared’s ever seen, and Jared’s just drunk enough to let himself think it’s beautiful.  
  
“Shit, I could’ve lived my whole life without seeing that.”  
  
Just for that, Vic gets out and does it all over again, cannon-balling into the pool practically on top of Jensen’s head.  
  
They migrate to the hot tub eventually, shedding unnecessary clothes and settling in until their teeth stop chattering. Jared rolls up another joint and passes it around. They get mellow and warm, start drifting inside two and three at a time. Jensen stays, so Jared stays, just sips his beer and smokes his joint and waits. For what, he’s not sure, but eventually it’s just the two of them, hot water swirling around them, sky wide open above them, and the stars so bright and close out here in the middle of the country, Jared thinks he could reach out and touch them.   
  
Jensen’s thigh and shoulder are sliding against his under the water, both of them ducked down low so they’re only exposed to the cool night air from the chin up. Jared finally breaks the long silence that’s drawn out between them.  
  
“So, worth the drive, right?”  
  
Jensen grins, shrugs against his shoulder.  
  
“It’s alright, I guess.”  
  
Jared shoulders further into him, grins right back. He runs his pruney fingers across Jensen’s slippery belly underneath the water, and Jensen just _hmmms_ , closes his eyes and tips his head back against the edge of the tub, keeps smiling. If Jared was waiting for anything, he figures he was probably waiting for this.   
  
He slides his hand lower, under Jensen’s boxers, watches Jensen swallow hard and breathe out slow, then his fingers circle Jared’s wrist.  
  
“Not here.”  
  
Jared groans.  
  
“Why not?” He presses his nose to the skin behind Jensen’s ear. “Lights are all out in the house.”  
  
Jensen just groans back, leans his head to the side and gives Jared access to more of his throat.  
  
“Jay.“ Jensen’s fingers are loosening on his wrist, despite the protests. “Could still see, if they looked.”  
  
Jared’s drunk, he’s high, he’s been hard since Coop and Candace and Katie went inside and left them alone, and Jensen is so fucking close, so fucking hot Jared’s got to get his hands on him, _now_.  
  
“Don’t care.” He whispers it with wet lips along Jensen’s jaw. “They can all fuckin’ line up and watch, just wanna touch you.”  
  
That’s more, _way_ more than either one of them’s ever said out loud, and Jared would be scared he’s gone too far if he couldn’t feel Jensen’s dick pressed up against the back of his knuckles, twitching at his words.  
  
“Just let me.”  
  
“Jay, I. I just, I don’t.”  
  
Jensen is panting, and his eyes open suddenly, trained on Jared with heavy lids, his lashes just smudges in the dark. Jared can’t tell if that look is desire or fear, thinks maybe it’s both.  
  
“Jen?” He scoots closer, hooks his leg over Jensen’s, still nosing at his cheek. “I just wanna make you feel good, that’s all. You want me to, yeah? _Just let me_.”  
  
Jensen licks his lips and makes a cut-off, strangled kind of noise. He lets go of Jared’s wrist and closes his eyes.   
  
When they get inside, _after_ , Jared changes in the tiny attic room with the rickety bunk beds that he volunteered to share with Jensen since _he’s only staying one night_ , gets into his pj’s fast while Jensen’s in the bathroom and crawls into the double bottom bunk, face to the wall. He’s still hard, dick throbbing insistently, just waiting, wondering if Jens’ done for the night and he’s gonna have to slip into the bathroom and take care of himself. His mind is already replaying Jen’s low groans, his clutching fingers, his strangled huff when he came in Jared’s hand underwater; he’s thinking it’s not gonna take long, if it comes to that.  
  
Jensen comes in and stands there for a minute in the dark. Jared thinks he’s about to complain about getting stuck with the top bunk, but instead he slides in behind Jared, body fitting easily all along Jared’s back side, arm wrapping around, pulling him in tight. His hand slides down, right into Jared’s pajama pants, no hesitation, no second thoughts, fingers wrapping around him firm and hot, and all Jared can think is Jensen’s never, _ever_ touched him like this before. It’s so straight forward, almost bold; there’s nothing vague or unintentional about it, nothing hesitant or unsure in the way Jen’s stroking him, mouthing the back of his neck, murmuring something too soft and muffled for Jared to understand.  
  
It’s more than he ever really thought he’d get, and it’s too much and not enough all at once. He comes fast and hard, and it feels like time stops, like the world is slowing down to let Jared remember this moment, memorize how it feels.  
  
Jen just laughs, low and evil into Jared’s hair as he wipes his hand off on Jared’s pants, rubs his stubbly cheek against the back of Jared’s shoulder and starts to breathe slow and even.  
  
“Set an alarm, so I can stay for awhile.”  
  
Jared’s heart jerks at that, there’s no pretending it doesn’t. There’s no real privacy in this place, closed doors mean nothing with these numbnuts, but Jen wants to sleep for awhile anyway, just like this. Jared sets the alarm on his phone for six a.m.  
  
He’s barely even started to register the beeping when he feels Jensen reach over him to pick the phone up off the bed, make it stop buzzing. The light through the window is turning a milky purple; a hot spike runs through Jared, wakes him right up to feel Jen’s hot breath across his shoulder, fingers fiddling with the phone low against Jared’s belly. They’re still molded to each other, chest to back, groin to ass, legs lined up and tangled; they’re fucking _spooning_ , and apparently tonight is a night for firsts.  
  
“Hey.”  
  
Jen moves back a little, pulls at Jared’s shoulder. He rolls onto his back and finds Jensen leaned on one elbow over him, staring down at him with a look Jared’s not sure he’s seen before. He watches Jen’s gaze catch on his mouth, thinks _holy shit_ , thinks Jensen’s actually gonna _kiss him_ , and feels his chest clench, breath caught somewhere way down deep.  
  
But Jen just buries his face against Jared’s throat, rolls half on top of him and slots their bodies together just right so they can rut against each other. Jensen’s groaning in his ear, fingers gripping tight enough to bruise, shaking when he comes, and the heat of his lips and his stuttering breath sends Jared over, too.   
  
They lay there for a minute, catch their breath; Jen finally lifts his head, eyes all glassy and sleepy.  
  
“I gotta move.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
He lets his face fall back into the crook of Jared’s shoulder, a few more hot breaths ghosting over sweaty, tingling skin, then rolls to his feet. The bed shakes as he climbs up to the top bunk, settles in.  
  
“Dude! This mattress sucks ass; it’s all lumpy.”  
  
Jared just grins in the dark.  
  
“I know.”  


 

 

***** _Up here in the city, feels like things are closing in. The sunset’s just my light bulb burning out_. *****

  
  
Jensen’s got Amy leaned back against the arm of her couch; he’s pushed up against her, got his hand under her shirt, fingers sliding up from the smooth skin at the side of her waist to the bottom of her bra.  
  
“Hey, Mister.” She kisses along his jaw, voice low and sexy, but her hand is covering his, moving it back to her waist. “None of that.”  
  
“Right,” he pants between kisses, “right, sorry.”  
  
They’ve been making out for hours, or at least it feels that way; he thinks maybe he’s going crazy. It’s not three minutes before his hand is right back where it’s not supposed to be, sneaking under her, cradling her ass. This time she puts her hand in the middle of his chest and pushes, puts some space between them.  
  
“Jensen?” Her eyes are wide, questioning. “What’s going on with you?”  
  
The truth is, he’s not sure. He’s usually completely respectful of her boundaries; he knows the rules and he follows them, he doesn’t push. It’s been five years, and he’s _never_ pushed. Five fucking years; it’s enough to try any man’s patience, enough to make anyone give in to other temptations, if such temptations happen to present themselves.   
  
At least that’s what Jensen’s been telling himself.  
  
When he doesn’t answer, she bites her lip and nods.  
  
“I think I know what this is about.”  
  
“It’s not about anything baby, I just. You know, I miss you, that’s all.”  
  
She narrows her eyes, shrewd as always. She doesn’t suffer fools, or liars, gladly, and she can pretty much always tell when he’s bullshitting.  
  
“I know what you’re thinking, Jensen. You’ve been patient long enough, right? All these years you’ve waited around for me, and you’re getting sick of waiting.”  
  
“I never said that.”  
  
Jensen knows he’s not very convincing, he’s not even trying to be, not really, and he wonders what the fuck he’s doing. Trying to convince a woman to abandon her beliefs, to abandon what they _both_ know is right, and for what? So he can get laid, so he can have something else to get rid of the itch under his skin, something besides Jared and whatever it is about what they do together that makes Jensen think about it constantly, fixate on it, _crave_ it. He’s always heard the flesh is weak, he just never felt what that meant for himself, not until whenever it was he stopped being able to say no to Jared, and now just because he’s weak, he wants to bring Amy down with him? He feels like an asshole.  
  
“You don’t need to, sweetie. I know, okay?”  
  
She hooks her finger under his chin, makes him look at her, and she’s smiling.  
  
“I know what I told you when we first met, how I didn’t want to short change my family or my education, and I didn’t think I could do both at once, needed to concentrate on one at a time.”  
  
Jensen nods, not quite following.  
  
“Now that I’ve made it through my internship, the hardest part is over. I’m over the hump, you know? And I think you’re right, I think it’s time I stopped making you wait.”  
  
She’s beaming at him, gears in his head turning fast trying to catch up. He knows, _knows_ she’s not talking about sex, can’t be, and there’s only one other thing she could mean.  
  
He feels the smile freeze on his face while the bottom drops out of his stomach.  
  
He kisses her goodbye, drives on auto-pilot back to his parents’ house. After all those years of sleeping on Amy’s couch in Galveston, at least since she moved to Dallas last summer to Intern at UT Southwestern, he can go home and sleep in a real bed when he’s visiting. All the way up Central, his head is spinning.  
  
She wants to get married. Of course she wants to get married, _of course she does_ , and why wouldn’t she? Five years together, she’s finished with the nightmare year of her internship and ready to start her residency in the fall, she’s twenty-seven years old. It’s not that they haven’t talked about it, they have, it’s just always seemed far away, like something that was going to happen _someday_ , never today.  
  
He parks in front of his parents’ house, not sure how he got there. Lots of his friends from high school and college are married; Vic’s a year younger than him, and he and Lisa are getting married. Randy at work’s only a year older, and he’s been married for years. Chris and Kelly got married when they were twenty-two, for fuck’s sake. Hell, even Martinez got engaged last Christmas.   
  
Jensen stares around him at the familiar street, the houses he grew up with. He’s twenty-eight years old, not a kid anymore. He figures it’s about time he started acting like it.

**= = = = =**

  
He goes to North Park the next day, to Tiffany’s. He’s not sure where else to go, and he’s pretty sure all girls like Tiffany’s. If it’s famous enough that he’s heard of it, he figures that’s telling enough.  
  
He doesn’t bring anyone with him, no moral support or friendly advice, just asks the guy behind the counter what’s popular these days, and buys their best selling model. It costs him a fuck load of money, but he has a feeling that’s sort of the point.  
  
At dinner he tells his parents, shows them the ring. They seem to assume this is something he’s been planning for awhile, so he doesn’t mention he just bought it three hours ago.   
  
“We knew it had to be coming, we just weren’t sure when!” His mom kisses him, and the look on her face alone is enough to let him know he’s doing the right thing.  
  
His dad shakes his hand, claps him on the back.  
  
“Welcome to the club, kid.”  
  
Jensen just holds up his hands.  
  
“Hey, whoa, she hasn’t even said yes, yet. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”  
  
His parents just laugh, like it’s all such a foregone conclusion that it’s silly to even entertain the possibility it won’t all work out. He guesses they’re probably right.  
  
He calls Amy’s dad, knows that’s what she’ll expect, what her parents will expect, even though it’s an awkward fucking conversation to have. Of course Mrs. Hulsey knows why Jensen’s calling the minute he asks for her husband, Jensen can hear the smile, the coy tone in her voice when she says _let’s see if I can find him for you, honey_.  
  
They both tell him how happy they are, how they’ve been praying for this, how they know he’ll make Amy so happy and that’s all they’ve ever wanted for her. All he can tell them is that he’s prepared to do his very best.   
  
He knows you’re supposed to make some big, elaborate scene with the proposal, sky-writing or jumbotron messages or whole rooms filled with roses, but he’s not that kind of guy, he’s just _not_. The ring feels like it’s burning a hole in his pocket; now that he’s got it, he’s hyper aware of it, thinking about it every second. He’s not sure if it’s because he wants to be rid of it or because he wants Amy to have it, but he figures it’s the same difference either way.  
  
He tries to sleep, can’t, just stares at the little blue bag on his bedside table and sweats, tosses and turns. He jerks off, forces himself to think about Amy instead of the things he’s gotten used to thinking lately; forces his mind to soft curves and delicate lips and small smooth hands, won’t let the hard lines and muscle and rough calluses that mean _Jared_ force their way in.   
  
Still, it’s not enough.  
  
Finally he gets in the car and heads Uptown, shows up at her door at midnight. She’s standing there in her robe, hair messy, eyes wide and questioning, and he shoves the box into her hands.  
  
“I’m sorry, I just. I couldn’t wait.”  
  
She stares at him for a minute, then opens the box. When she looks up, her smile is blinding.


	5. Chapter 5

 

***** _We’re aging with time, like yesterday’s wine_. *****

  
  
Jared has known something’s been going on with Jensen, has known for awhile, but he never expected this.  
  
For months he’s seemed fidgety, antsy, meeting Jared’s eye less and wanting to fuck around more. He thought it was weird, sure, but _this_. This just isn’t what he was expecting, for Jensen to just wander through the living room one day, all casual, just _oh hey, I’ve been meaning to tell you, I’m engaged_. He does his best to keep his face neutral.  
  
“Uh, wow. I just. _Wow_. When did this happen?”  
  
Jensen ducks his head, rubs at the back of his hair, and Jared already knows he’s not gonna like the answer.  
  
“Awhile ago.”  
  
“What’s awhile ago?”  
  
“Back in the summer.”  
  
Back in the summer, sure. It’s almost _Thanksgiving_ , and Jared’s trying to read Jensen’s face but coming up empty. If Jensen is really happy, Jared’s willing to put his personal feelings aside; what kind of friend would he be if he wasn’t? But Jen doesn’t seem happy, _hasn’t_ seemed happy, and all Jared can think is that when Chris was proposing to Kelly, it was a months-long ordeal of planning and ring-choosing and freaking out about getting it right, followed by five hundred excited phone calls to everyone they knew, the second she said yes.  
  
This doesn’t feel like that, not even a little. Jared can’t help it if he seems a little shell shocked.  
  
“I didn’t even know you were thinking about proposing.”  
  
“It just figured it was time, I mean five years, you know? It just kinda happened, spur of the moment.”  
  
“And then you. I mean. Why didn’t you tell me?”  
  
Jensen looks miserable, meets Jared’s eyes, finally, with a look that’s pleading with him to understand.  
  
“Oh.” Jared nods. “You thought it would be weird. Because of-“  
  
“ _No_.” Jensen cuts him off. “Not that, just. I don’t know, I’m not really into big announcements.”  
  
He looks at the stairs like he’s itching to make his escape, like they hold the key to his future happiness, like getting out of this room with Jared in it is all he wants in the world. Jared isn’t trying to make it hard, doesn’t _want_ to make it hard, he just doesn’t understand. He can be happy for Jensen and Amy, he really can. It might take him awhile, but whatever, he can do it. Mostly all he wants right now is for that pained look to leave Jensen’s face, for Jensen _not_ to want to run away from him, so he puts on his biggest smile.  
  
“I know man, I’ve met you.”  
  
Jensen looks up hesitantly.  
  
“Still think you’re a pussy for not telling me, but I guess I should be used to that by now, huh?”  
  
He keeps grinning, until Jensen looks like maybe he believes it.  
  
“Can’t say I’m not surprised. But whatever makes you happy, man.”  
  
Jensen finally breathes, finally smiles back. It doesn’t make Jared feel better, like he hoped it would.

**= = = = =**

  
Jared’s been out with Jimbo and Chen and Jordan, and he didn’t invite Jensen. It wasn’t him being passive aggressive, not really, it was more just self preservation. He needed Jensen out of sight, out of mind for awhile, so he could think about something else, or think about nothing, just not think about _Jensen_. Or how Jensen’s getting married and how that’s going to change Jared’s whole fucking life, even though he had no say in it whatsoever. Which is maybe like, the single most frustrating thing that’s ever happened to him.  
  
So yeah. He needed a night out.  
  
He had too much to drink and picked up some cute little brunette, just because he can. Because he’s single, and that’s what single people get to do, they get to drink too much and hook up with strangers. He even thought about bringing her home with him, but no matter how drunk he is, he can’t even _get_ drunk enough to be _that_ passive aggressive. So he drove her home, fucked her in her cramped little West Campus apartment, then came home and drank some more.  
  
Now he’s sitting in his room, thinking about Jensen asleep upstairs, just sleeping, like it’s _nothing_ , and Jared hasn’t slept in three days.  
  
Jensen’s getting _married_. Which means, first of all, they won’t live together anymore. They’ll hardly even _see_ each other anymore. And it’s not like when Chris and Kelly got married, not even close, because Jared’s not friends with Amy, and he doesn’t need to be hit over the head to know Amy doesn’t want to be his friend. And he can see the writing on the wall, knows Jensen won’t be his friend much longer, either, because Jensen always defers to what she wants and what she wants is definitely for Jensen to not be friends with Jared, he’s sure of it. They’ll probably dress him up in a fucking monkey suit, make him stand up there at the altar and watch it all up close and personal, like a fucking train wreck, and then Jensen will stop returning his calls.  
  
Of course the rest of it will stop, too. Jensen might screw around with some guy who happens to live _down the hall_ when his girlfriend – who won’t even touch him – lives hundreds of miles away, but Jensen isn’t gonna make a special trip across town to screw around on his _wife_. Jared doesn’t need to be told that, either.  
  
She’ll move in here, into _Jared’s house_ , and he’ll have to find somewhere else to go, have to get the fuck out of the way. They’ll just live here together and be all married and whatever, and turn his room into a fucking nursery and shit, and only associate with other married people they meet at the church that Amy will make Jensen go to six days a week and twice on fucking Sunday. It will all be like Jared never even existed, and he just can’t really stand it, the fucking idea of it.   
  
What started as a little flare of anger in his belly is suddenly burning out of control, filling him with white hot rage. He wants to just stomp right up those fucking stairs, right now. He knows he shouldn’t, he _knows_ , but he does anyway.  
  
“What about me?”  
  
“What the fuck, man?”  
  
Jensen sighs, tiredly, but he doesn’t sound disoriented, doesn’t even sound surprised. Maybe he wasn’t sleeping, after all.  
  
“You’re getting married, and what, I’m just out on my fuckin’ ear?”  
  
“Jay, that’s not how it’s gonna be.”  
  
“Fuck you.”  
  
He says it loud, and mean. He hears Jensen take a deep breath, and hopes it means he’s pissed off; Jared is fucking _itching_ for a fight.  
  
“The wedding isn’t until next summer. And anyway, Amy doesn’t want to live here. Old houses aren’t really her thing, all creaky and small, and. She wants something bigger, new. We’ll probably move up North, Round Rock or Cedar Park or something. I was thinking you could just stay here, just cover the mortgage, I don’t care about anything extra. You can afford it by yourself now, or get a roommate if you want, whatever works. And it’s a good investment for me to keep it.”  
  
Jared snorts.  
  
“So you’ve got my life all figured out. Thanks a _fucking_ million.”  
  
“I didn’t-. I’m just saying, I’m not _throwing you out_ , like you’re making it sound.”  
  
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”  
  
“Do I?”  
  
The sarcasm in Jensen’s voice makes Jared want to throw something, or punch something, or _something_.  
  
“Fucking right you do, asshole. I mean _what about me_? What about _me_ , and _you_ , and-“  
  
He wants to say _us_ , but he can’t - can’t let himself say it, can’t stand the way it sounds even in his head.   
  
It’s quiet for awhile, just the sound of them both breathing, until Jen finally speaks.  
  
“Jared.” His tone is hard now, edged with incredulity. “What do you want me to do? Huh? Come on, man. You want, what? You want me to be your _boyfriend_? You want to take me home to your parents? Tell all our friends?”  
  
Jared feels his face burn, feels queasy just at the thought. He’s been trying all this time not to think about that part, about what it would really mean, what it would cost, for both of them, to have Jensen for himself, but he can see it clearly now, right there in his face. No wife, no grandkids for his parents to dote on, no normal life. And honestly, he can’t even believe Jensen would think about that shit, much less say the words _out loud_ , but it’s true, all of it.   
  
Even if he thinks their friends would probably be cool with it eventually, that’s not the point.  
  
“Of course not.”  
  
“Exactly. So what are you so fucking pissed about? We can’t keep doing this Jay. You _know_ we can’t keep doing this. I can’t _not_ get married, you can’t _not_ move on with your life, _not_ date anyone new, just so we can keep fucking around, being roommates and never growing up. It had to end sometime, right? We both knew that.”  
  
He knows Jensen’s right. Jared’s not gay, at least not totally. And even if he is, even if he’s fucking queer as a three dollar bill and even if he’s willing to tell the world all about it, Jensen is _certainly_ never going down that road to hell with him. They’re not gonna have a _relationship_ , they’re not gonna keep living here in this house together forever.   
  
It had to end sometime. Jared doesn’t have to like it, but he has to accept it. He sighs, slumps down onto the end of Jensen’s bed.  
  
“Yeah. Yeah, I know. Sorry, man, I just. I drank way too much.”  
  
Jensen scoots closer, nudges him with a shoulder, and Jen’s voice is lighter now, consoling.  
  
“I know, dude. No worries.”  
  
He feels Jen’s hand on the back of his neck, squeezing lightly, and Jared has to close his eyes against the prickly sensation that’s suddenly there behind them.  
  
“So what do we do now?”  
  
He knows his voice sounds too thick, knows it sounds weak, but he can’t help it, he _can’t_. He feels exposed, vulnerable, and he hates it but he can’t make it stop.   
  
“I don’t know man,” Jen whispers in the dark, so close it’s just not fucking _fair_. “I guess we make the most of it while we can.”  
  
Jared blows out the breath he’s been holding, and when Jensen dips his head down, lets his forehead roll against Jared’s collar bone, it feels like a stay of execution.  


 

 

***** _Gotta keep rockin’ while I still can. I got a two-pack habit and a motel tan_. *****

  
  
In February, Jared found a Wikipedia article listing the extreme geographic points of all the US States, and calculated how many miles it would take to get to all four points in Texas. The answer was over 2000, which for reasons Jensen is still unclear about seemed to cement Jared’s certainty about the superiority of Texas over all other states.  
  
In April, he somehow convinced Jensen that they should make the trip, also for reasons that Jensen is still unclear about.  
  
On Saturday morning of Memorial Day weekend they pack up the Escalade with enough gear for a trip at least three times the length of the one they’re actually making, and head to San Antonio. They stop at Jared’s parents house for lunch, strap his mom’s beat up old green canoe, the one she used in the Girl Scouts when she was a kid and which, from the looks of things, hasn’t moved from its spot in the Padalecki garage since then, to the top of the truck. Jared kisses his mom goodbye and they keep rolling South. They get into Brownsville around seven, pick up the keys to their room at the LaQuinta, then drive a few miles Southeast to a tiny place called, appropriately enough, South Point.   
  
Jensen sits in the car, embarrassed, while Jared goes into a little convenience store to ask where they can access the river. It’s all private property along this stretch of the border, Jensen is sure there’s no way to the water, but of course because Jared is Jared the clerk draws a map on the back of the Lotto Texas ticket Jared bought just to be friendly, and they head back to Brownsville. It’s already getting dark, too late to go tonight, so they opt for dinner instead. They eat Mexican, of course, drink margaritas and eat tamales and chile rellenos on the patio of some tiny little family joint, Jensen chain smoking the whole time. They drive down by the river and look across at the lights of Matamoros.  
  
They have two beds, but only use one.  
  
On Sunday morning at daybreak, they park at the corner store in South Point, get coffee and kolaches and head out on foot. A thirty minute walk along a tractor path between two sorghum fields brings them to a stand of trees, and beyond that, the Rio Grande. Jared pulls out his fancy new gadget and checks their coordinates.  
  
“We need to walk East, just a few hundred yards.”  
  
“Wow, we’re really being serious about this huh?”  
  
Jared takes another slug of his coffee and pulls his shades down against the rising sun.  
  
“Gonna do it, buddy, might as well do it right.”  
  
When they get to the right spot, Jared pulls out his camera and they huddle together, camera turned back towards them at arm’s length. It’s just their heads and shoulders in front of the muddy-brown trickle of river, but it seems good enough for Jared, so it’s good enough for Jensen.

**= = = = =**

  
They stick close to the border as they head West, drive up through Laredo, through Eagle Pass and Del Rio, watch the wide flat plains of the Gulf coast turn into rocky desert, rise into mountains. They detour through Marfa, stand on the viewing platform just past dusk and wait to see the Lights with ten or twelve other hopeful seekers, but the only things out there in the black night are headlights and stars. They finally pack it in, head South to Big Bend and camp in the park for a night, just to say they’ve done it.  
  
They get into El Paso late on Monday, another LaQuinta with the same bedspreads, the same nondescript printed posters on the walls. They eat at the Denny’s across the parking lot, splash around in the pool ‘til well after the posted closing time, and call it a night.  
  
Tuesday morning they drive a few miles North of town, find the place where the blacktop ends and park there, then walk West down a dirt road until Jared’s little gadget tells them to stop. They’re in between two empty fields, just waist-high sandy colored grass and a sandy brown road.  
  
“Well, here we are.”  
  
Jared’s grinning, like there’s anything to smile at out here. The sun beats down on them; the obligatory picture shows two red, sweaty faces, Jared’s hair plastered to his forehead and one unruly strand curling wet against his cheek.  
  
They walk back to the car.  
  
“That was exciting,” Jensen rolls his eyes as they close themselves back up in the hot truck, crank the AC.  
  
Jared just keeps grinning and flips his shades down.  
  
“Shut up, bitch. You know you liked it.”

**= = = = =**

  
They drive through Midland on Tuesday afternoon, but nobody mentions that they’ll be back six weeks from now for Jensen’s wedding. They leave the Western mountains and head for the Panhandle, onto the arid mesa of the Llano Estacado. They stop for the night in Lubbock, and Jared indulges Jensen while he tours them around his old stomping grounds. Jared actually acts like he cares, which Jensen appreciates, while Jensen’s pointing out the first dorm he lived in, the house where Casner lived where they had all those legendary Fiji house parties, the bar he was tossed out of for standing on a table and _actually_ swinging from a wagon-wheel chandelier, the best pizza joint in town, the spot on campus where he once had to stand for four hours in a prom dress and tiara, waving to the passing students during Hell Week.  
  
Jared throws his head back and cackles loud at that one.  
  
“A tiara? Dude. Fraternities are so fucking weird.”  
  
“Yeah.” Jensen shrugs, feels a little nostalgic. “Was a lot of bullshit, no doubt. But it was fun.”  
  
Jared smirks, pokes him in the side.  
  
“And I bet you were the prettiest one out of aaaaallll the pledges.”  
  
They pass Grace Bible Church, a place Jensen only went one time, but he doesn’t point it out, or mention why he remembers it. Just looking at it, he can remember vividly what it looks like inside, remember exactly the guilt and loathing rumbling in his stomach the morning he walked through those doors.   
  
Lying in bed with Jared later, sated and sweaty and peaceful, the irony isn’t lost on him. He just can’t muster up any guilt over the thing between them, _can’t_ , for better or worse.  
  
In the morning they take the Interstate up to Amarillo, then head up through Perryton to the Oklahoma line. There’s an actual sign by the side of the road on Highway 83; they pull off and take their picture in front of it, and that’s that. They drive back South to Wichita Falls, get there by five, sun still high in the sky.   
  
They could go further, on into Ft. Worth at least, or stay for free in Dallas, but they’re bypassing the whole Metroplex by unspoken agreement, just seems easier that way. So they eat at another parking lot diner, lay by another motel pool, drink beer despite the clearly posted signs that say no glass containers or alcoholic beverages are permitted. Turns out no one seems to give a shit on a Wednesday evening with only three occupied rooms in the whole place. After dark, Jensen traipses back to the diner to buy a fresh pack from the vending machine out front.  
  
“You’re sure smoking a lot lately,” Jared observes from his position, prone and shirtless on the bed, still wearing his damp swim trunks.  
  
Jensen snorts, looks pointedly at the half-burned joint in the ashtray on the bedside table.  
  
“I could say the same for you, champ.”  
  
Jared just shakes his head, unconvinced.  
  
“No seriously. I think your filthy habit is escalating.”  
  
Jensen just props the door open and steps out into the breezeway to continue his filthy habit in peace.  
  
He hasn’t mentioned to Jared how he promised Amy he’d quit before the wedding. Not that quitting is a bad thing, of course it’s not. Of _course_ it’s in his best interests to quit, he _knows_ that, but still, here he is, chain smoking his way across Texas like some kid who thinks he’s getting away with something. It’s stupid, but as usual that doesn’t seem to stop him.  
  
He’s trying hard not to think of this trip as a last hurrah. Last hurrah for smoking, last hurrah for being free and single, last hurrah for him and Jared being…whatever they are. He knows there’ll always be a _him and Jared_ , that’s not going anywhere, no matter what, but it’s all going to have to change. It’s going to be totally different, after this; no living together, no seeing each other every day. No _other stuff_ either.  
  
He wonders if all guys feel this way before they get married, wonders if this is just the usual bout of cold feet that everyone goes through. He lights another cigarette and relishes the burn in his lungs, tells himself that’s all it is and mostly believes it.

**= = = = =**

  
The Easternmost point in the state of Texas is in the midst of a completely uninhabited area of the Piney Woods on the Sabine River, and getting to it is a real pain in Jensen’s ass.  
  
They stay Thursday night in Jasper, a town known for absolutely nothing save a horrifying and gruesome murder, and that’s strike one as far as Jensen’s concerned.  
  
Strike two is the woods themselves, the way they make everything feel all closed in and claustrophobic. Jensen grew up on the high plains; he likes wide open spaces and a clear view of the horizon, not eight hundred foot tall pine trees packed so tight you can barely walk between them, stretching for miles in every direction.   
  
Strike three is the fact that this is where the canoe comes in.  
  
Jensen had one unfortunate incident with a canoe, at Camp Grady Spruce in Fifth Grade, and that was all the canoeing he needed for a lifetime, thanks. But this is Jared’s deal and he agreed to come along for the ride, so he’s trying to keep the snarky comments to a minimum.  
  
Friday morning they drive out Highway 63 East, to the bridge where it crosses the Sabine and becomes Louisiana State Highway 8. They pull off by the side of the road, untie the canoe, and carry it down the steep embankment. It takes awhile to find a place they can actually get the canoe in and out, but eventually they manage to get themselves out on the water without anyone drowning or being strangled. Jensen feels like he’s in _Deliverance_.  
  
They paddle downstream until Jared announces that they found it, manage to work their way over to the side, close enough that Jensen can jam his paddle down into the muddy bank and hold them there while Jared gets his damn camera out. The look on Jensen’s face in the photo is not that of a happy camper, but Jared just laughs.  
  
“You look like someone just forced you to canoe down a river in the middle of nowhere, against your will.”  
  
Jensen can’t help grinning, a little.  
  
“Go figure.”  
  
“Have a cigarette, Smokey. ‘m sure that’ll cheer your ass right up.”  
  
Jensen has a cigarette, but what’s really cheering him up is the thought of the nice hotel they sprang for in Houston tonight, and the fact that they’re dropping that canoe off in San Antonio tomorrow, and Jensen will never have to see it again.  


 

 

***** _What y’all know about them Texas boys? Comin’ down in candy toys, smokin’ weed,_

_talkin’ noise_. *****

  
  
There’s a leggy redhead in a sparkly, hot pink g-string and nothing else sliding around the pole in the middle of Jared’s table.   
  
He’s not the best man, which doesn’t hurt _too_ much, family is family even if Josh is not nearly as close to Jensen as Jared is. But another thing Josh is _not_ is any fun at all. So as the self-appointed back-up best man, Jared did the right thing; he planned the bachelor party, he invited all Jensen’s frat brothers from Tech, all his high school friends, paid for the neon purple Hummer limo that picked them up from the Four Seasons downtown and drove them to the Yellow Rose. He’s sitting here and he’s drinking, he even ordered a round of shots for the party, even gave Jensen a handful of ones, told him to knock himself out. But that doesn’t mean he has to like it.  
  
The bachelor party means the wedding is in a week. It also means Jensen leaves tomorrow to pick Amy up in Dallas, then the two of them are heading to Midland to prep for the big day. And when Jensen comes back in two weeks, after his honeymoon, it won’t be to their house on 35th. He and Amy already rented a townhouse in Round Rock while they look for a place to buy, and the movers are coming in a couple of days to take Jensen’s stuff to his new house. Jared is overseeing the whole fucking thing.  
  
He knows he’s kind of being a dick, sulking at his best friend’s bachelor party, but Jensen’s too fucking drunk already, too fucking busy with the friends he hardly ever gets to see; he won’t even notice, and it’s not Jared’s fault that scotch always makes him so fucking depressed .  
  
“Dude, what’s your problem?”  
  
Jimbo’s chewing on a cigar, and he has a pair of plastic tits on his head. Vic was in charge of party favors.  
  
“Mourning the loss of your husband to an actual woman?”  
  
Jared manages a half assed grin.  
  
“Nah. Amy’s got a killer rack. I never had a chance against those things.” He hopes his voice sounds more chipper than he feels.  
  
“True enough, my man.”  
  
The redhead finishes her number and puts a hand on Jared’s head to keep her balance as she steps off the table on her impossibly high heels. Jared’s feet hurt just looking at them.  
  
Jimbo thanks her very sincerely, and tips his boob-hat gallantly as she passes.  
  
“Dude, you couldn’t even thank the lady?”  
  
“Sorry, sorry.”  
  
“I thought we talked about you drinking Scotch.”  
  
“I should know better.”  
  
“So what’s up, big man. Tell Uncle Jimbo your troubles.”  
  
He wiggles his eyebrows and puffs magnanimously on his cigar. Jared’s mind runs suddenly to what would happen if he really did tell Uncle Jimbo his troubles. It’s not a pretty picture. He sighs, shakes his head.  
  
“I just. Ya know, Ackles getting married is fucking up my whole life.”  
  
“Sure.” Jimbo nods, like this is a given.  
  
“Everybody’s pairing up, and I don’t even have anyone, I mean. A girlfriend, or anything.”  
  
“True.”  
  
Jared groans and face plants on the table.  
  
“Dude, come on. What about Scotty? He’ll never find a girlfriend, you’ll always have him.”  
  
“Scotty can hear you, motherfucker!”  
  
Jimbo shrugs in Scotty’s direction.  
  
“The truth hurts, bitch.” He turns back to Jared.  
  
“Upside – you’ve got your own place now, no roommate to cock block you.”  
  
Jared snorts at the idea of Jensen being a cock block. That wasn’t _exactly_ how it went.  
  
“And if all else fails, there’s always hookers.”  
  
Jared doesn’t bother lifting his head, just his middle finger. Jimbo laughs, claps a hand down on Jared’s shoulder.  
  
“Nah, for real. It’s almost your birthday, all you gotta do is say the word.”  
  
Jared manages to lift his head up, but only to give Jimbo a death glare over his crossed arms.  
  
“How about let’s get you another drink, no more scotch. I’m thinking something fruity, with an umbrella?”  
  
Jared just scowls, but he doesn’t say no.

**= = = = =**

  
The suite Jared rented at the Four Seasons is freaking awesome, as is the weed he procured from his old friend Sanjiv, who’s working at Dell with him now. Somehow some of the strippers ended up coming back to the hotel with them; he can’t be sure how or why, he just knows they’re half naked in the main room. He’s watching through the glass doors of the balcony, looking out at Town Lake and smoking out eighteen floors up, when Jensen wanders out.  
  
Jared’s just buzzed enough that even Jensen can’t fuck up his mellow.  
  
“The man of the hour.” He grins. “How’s it going in there?”  
  
Jensen just shrugs. “Okay, I guess. Good Party, Jay.”  
  
He doesn’t look as drunk, or has happy as Jared remembered from earlier.  
  
“You aren’t convincing me.”  
  
Jen smiles at that, leans back against the rail next to Jared.  
  
“No seriously, it’s good. I appreciate it. If you left it up to Josh, God knows what would have happened.”  
  
“Nothing, I’m guessing.” Jared smiles when he says it, hopes it doesn’t sound as catty out loud as it does in his head. He guesses it’s okay when Jen smiles back.  
  
“I uh. I just kinda feel like going home, that’s all.”  
  
“Dude. I got you this fucking bad ass suite and you want to go home?” Jared shakes his head, incredulous. “Just for that, I’m not sharing.”  
  
Jensen holds out his hand.  
  
“Give me that, jackass. I’m the man of the hour, remember?”  
  
“Yeah.” Jared hands the joint over grudgingly. “Un-fucking-grateful bitch of the hour, more like.”  
  
Jensen tokes and hands it back, holds on to it when Jared reaches for it, so their fingers brush. He looks Jared in the eye.  
  
“Leaving tomorrow, you know? Last night in the house, just kinda wanted to spend it there.” He clears his throat and drops his eyes. Jared thinks he might be blushing.   
  
“You and me, I mean.”  
  
Jared just nods, chews on the inside of his cheek.  
  
“You and me.” His face gives nothing away, and that’s by design. He’s not giving Jensen this one easy, not tonight.  
  
Jen nods, shifts uncomfortably on his feet, and Jared’s glad; he feels a vindictive little spike in his gut, watching Jensen squirm for it.  
  
“You and me, you know. Just. If you want to.”  
  
_If you want to_. Yeah fucking right, Jared’s thinking, Jensen’s so fucking full of shit, acting like he doesn’t know better.  
  
But then again, Jared’s full of shit too, standing here trying to be a hard ass, acting like maybe he’s not gonna go home with Jensen and take whatever he can fucking get until time runs out. It’s stupid, and it’s useless; it’s a waste of precious time.   
  
Jared puts out the joint and pockets it, jerks his head toward the door.  
  
“What about them?”  
  
Jensen just shrugs.  
  
“Couldn’t give a fuck less right now.”  
  
Jared nods, pushes off the rail and stands up straight.  
  
“Okay then. I’ll go get a cab. Tell them whatever you want, just meet me downstairs in 10.”  


 

 

***** _When I said I do, well, I slammed all the doors_. *****

  
  
Jensen is in his own personal version of hell.  
  
It’s day five in Midland, and he’s been surrounded by nothing but women and their wedding talk since he got here. If he hears anything else about flower arrangements, or center pieces, or dresses, he’s gonna claw his eyes out. It’s been too long of smiling, of being on his best behavior, of no cursing, no drinking, no fun and no fucking _break_. He doesn’t know how much longer he can keep it up before he cracks.  
  
Amy slides up next to him on the couch where he’s been parked all morning, sitting there like some prized bull on display while people rush all around him. It seems pointless to him, all this chaos and commotion and fuss for 3 or 4 hours of his life, but Amy seems into it, so he’s playing along. She smiles at him, puts her chin on his shoulder.  
  
“So how much are you hating this?”  
  
He’s shocked into smiling back. The girl has a knack for reading him, he has to hand it to her.  
  
“I’m not loving it, let’s put it that way.”  
  
She nods, kisses his cheek.  
  
“Only two more days, then we’re on our way to Maui.”  
  
He breathes out slow.  
  
“Two more days.”  
  
“Why don’t you get out of here? Go watch basketball or something, get away from makeup tips and china patterns for a little while.”  
  
He kisses her full on the mouth - once, twice, three times. He’s too grateful to mention that basketball season’s over.  
  
“Thank you, thank you, seriously. _Thank you_.”  
  
She just giggles and pushes him off.  
  
“You’re welcome. I’m getting tired of looking at your grumpy face anyway.”  
  
He walks out of the Hulsey’s house like he just got sprung from jail. Heads back to the hotel, relishing the silence, relishing being alone for a little while. That house with Amy and her sister and her mom and _his_ mom, it was all just getting to be too much.  
  
He takes a hot shower, turns the AC all the way down, and lies on the bed in his boxers.   
  
He’s hasn’t talked to Jared all week, keeps telling himself he’s not a child and Jared’s not a security blanket, they can be apart for a few fucking days. Jared will be here tomorrow, along with everyone else, and Jensen can wait until then to talk to him.   
  
_Still_.  
  
The movers came yesterday, and he feels like he should at least check and make sure everything went okay. It’s the least he can do, after leaving Jared to deal with it all alone.  
  
Jared answers on the first ring.  
  
“Guess where I am.”  
  
“How ‘bout I don’t guess, and you just tell me?”  
  
“Chillin’ in my new room. _Formerly_ known as _your_ room. Dude, it’s awesome up here.”  
  
Jensen hadn’t really thought about it, but of course it makes sense that Jared would move out of his tiny room downstairs, where there’s barely room to walk around the perimeter of his gigantic bed, and into the upstairs bedroom, with the extra space and the extra closets and the big, modern bathroom with the shower head he won’t have to duck to use.  
  
_Of course it makes sense_ , but Jensen still feels a weird pang of something he can’t identify, like _the body isn’t even cold yet_ and Jared’s already moving on. He tries to shake it off.  
  
“So everything went okay with the move, I take it?”  
  
“Yeah man, they hauled your stuff out of here, moved my stuff where I wanted it. I let them in at the new place and tried to tell them where I thought shit went, but ya know. I’m sure I got it wrong.”  
  
Jensen hears what he’s not saying, _Amy will think I got it wrong_ , and frankly, he’s probably right, so Jensen lets it slide. Amy likes things how she likes them, that’s all. She’s not bitchy about it, she’s just. _Particular_.  
  
“And I gave ‘em a nice big fat tip, as a token of your appreciation.”  
  
Jensen left his credit card so Jared could pay the movers. He groans.  
  
“How big and fat are we talkin’ here?”  
  
“Nothin’ you can’t afford, money bags. And that goes for the dinner you bought me last night, too.”  
  
“Wow, I’m so generous.”  
  
“You were raised right, Ackles. Your mom should be proud.”  
  
Jensen hangs up feeling better than he’s felt since he left Austin; yes, this week has sucked, but he’s almost home free. If he can just make it to Saturday night, everything will be okay.

**= = = = =**

  
The wedding is your typical small-town-Texas, fundamentalist affair. The place is packed to the gills; Amy’s family has been members of the congregation on both sides for generations, so it’s pretty much standing room only.  
  
Jensen stands at the front with the minister, Josh and Jared and Vic and Martinez and Amy’s brother Wes all standing behind him, trying not to sweat through his tux and feeling profusely thankful for the flask of whiskey Jared pulled out of his jacket and slipped into Jensen’s hand before they walked out. The shot or two Jensen managed to swallow, Jared and Martinez forming a human screen between him and the rest of the people milling around in the side vestibule, that’s all that’s keeping his hands from shaking. He hates all the eyes on him, hates the scrutiny of being the center of attention, and all he’s got to hold on to is that it will all be over soon.  
  
The Hulsey’s version of The Church of Christ doesn’t allow for instruments in the sanctuary, so when the doors open the choir sings _O Perfect Love_ , and Mr. Hulsey walks Amy down the aisle. She’s stunning, she’s fucking _glowing_ , and the smile Jensen gives her is big, and real.  
  
He’s glad at least for the traditional wedding vows, for the comfort of well-known words and not having to come up with his own. His throat is dry, voice coming out thick and slow as it is; he’s not sure his spinning head could have remembered anything beyond the short phrases that he has to repeat. He kisses her when he’s told to, chaste and sweet, and the choir sings _To God be the Glory_ on their way out.  
  
They don’t have to go far. The fellowship hall at the church is serving fruit and cheese and finger sandwiches, sparkling cider and punch, and that’s it. There’s no bar, no band, no drinking or dancing, just a crowd of people Jensen mostly doesn’t know, a never ending line of well-wishers. Once that part’s over, it doesn’t last long. They cut the cake, take some pictures. Jensen changes out of his tux in the same Sunday School classroom where he changed into it, puts on some khakis and a button down shirt, shakes the hands of all his groomsmen, hugs his mom and dad and sister, and meets Amy in the front hallway. They hold hands and walk through the doors into a cloud of rose petals.   
  
They’re flying to Dallas tonight, staying at the DFW Hyatt, and leaving for Maui in the morning; Jared is driving Jensen’s truck back to Austin tomorrow.  
  
Josh drops them off at the Midland airport in a car with shoe polish on the windows and streamers fluttering from the bumper. He shakes Jensen’s hand and kisses Amy’s cheek, tells her _welcome to the family_ , and drives away. And this is the moment Jensen’s been holding on for, been gritting it out for through the last week, the last months, really, when the wedding craze got to be too much. He kept telling himself, just _make it through the day_ , through the rehearsal and the wedding and the reception. Just make it to the airport, and you’ll be fine.   
  
They stand on the curb, just the two of them and their bags, a perfect picture of beautiful, newly wedded bliss.   
  
Amy’s smiling up at him, reaching for his hand; Jensen’s still waiting for the relief to set in.  


 

 

***** _The days are burning but I’m determined not to be undone  
by everything that starts with promise and never comes_. *****

  
  
Jared is lying naked on his bed, smoking a joint and staring out the skylight of his new bedroom while some dude whose name he doesn’t remember - or maybe never got in the first place - is going down on his dick like it’s made of candy. He holds his breath and tells himself with no small degree of bitterness that it’s more, way more, than he ever got from Jensen.  
  
It’s been five months since Jensen moved out of the house, two months since Jared’s actually laid eyes on him in person, and three weeks since they talked on the phone. It’s just about what Jared was expecting, this super-sonic drift from where they were to a place where they don’t even speak for weeks at a time, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t still suck, that he wasn’t still disappointed. For all he tried to brace himself for it ahead of time, to prepare for the inevitable, it still hurts like a bitch.  
  
He’s trying to let it go, trying to just let it be what it’s gonna be and accept the way things are now, the way they’re gonna be from now on, but he’s not sure he’s being very successful. There’s still this sucking chest wound, the space Jensen used to take up, and nothing he does seems to make it go away. Not the random guys, not the random girls, not all the weed and booze in the fucking world.  
  
He closes his eyes and concentrates, tries to imagine Jen’s plush pink lips around his cock. He used to fantasize about it all the time, thought maybe, just _maybe_ someday, but now the idea is so ludicrous, so far removed from where they are that Jared feels weak, feels utterly pathetic even imagining it. He thinks of Tony Parker instead and figures he’s got a way better shot of making that shit happen than he ever would with Jensen, Eva or no Eva.  
  
He doesn’t bother trying to push the guy off when he comes, but that seems to suit them both fine.  
  
Jared shares his smoke with the kid, lets him pass out in the bed. In the morning Jared makes some excuse about having to be somewhere, hops in the shower and tells the kid to let himself out. When he comes out of the bathroom the guy is gone but his number is on a scrap of paper on the bed. Jared sighs and tosses it into the trashcan, goes downstairs to put the coffee on. He downs a handful of Advil that he doesn’t even bother to count - he’s big enough, it would take a whole fucking bottle to send him to the emergency room, he’s _pretty_ sure - and seriously thinks about a beer instead of coffee, but tells himself he has to draw a fucking line _somewhere_. He drops two Eggos in the toaster and sits down at the table, puts his head down to shield his eyes from the glare of the morning sun.   
  
He knows he can’t keep doing this shit, living drunk and high and inviting random, probably shady strangers into his house, rolling into work looking like he spent the night in an alley. He knows he has to stop, he’s just not sure what he should start doing instead.

**= = = = =**

  
“Dude. Guess what I did.”  
  
“How ‘bout I don’t guess, and you just tell me.”  
  
Jared squeezes a green rubber rabbit next to the phone, and it squeaks shrilly.  
  
“Come on, guess.”  
  
Jensen huffs a loud breath on the other end of the line.  
  
“Got your very own rubber ducky, by the sounds of it.”  
  
“Better.”  
  
“ _Better_ than a rubber ducky? I dunno man, I’m stumped.”  
  
“Here’s a hint: I don’t think you’re gonna like it.”  
  
Jensen laughs.  
  
“Fantastic. I can hardly wait, then.”  
  
“I got a dog.”  
  
Jensen’s quiet for a minute, and Jared knows he’s picturing claw marks on his hardwood floors, holes dug in his grass, but he recovers fast.  
  
“That’s cool, man. I meant it’s gotta be lonely without me over there, and I know you always wanted one.”  
  
Jared skips the lonely comment, he’s not about to touch that, but he gnaws on his lip a little before he responds.  
  
“Yeah, about that. When I said I got a dog?”  
  
“Yes?” Jensen’s tone gets deeper, like it does when he’s anticipating getting pissed, just waiting for someone to give him a reason. Jared’s pretty sure he’s about to give him a reason.  
  
“More accurately? I got, um. Dogs.”  
  
“ _Dogs_. You got _dogs_? Shit Jay, how many are we talking about here?”  
  
“Just two!”  
  
“Oh, well. _Just_ two. That’s almost like the no dogs you had last time I talked to you. Except you know, _plus two extra dogs_.”  
  
Jared couldn’t help it, is the thing. He went to the SPCA up on 183, fully intending to adopt one dog, just _one_ \- just something to do besides get drunk and high and hook up with random strangers. Something to give his attention to now that he’s got all this extra, previously-devoted-to-hanging-out-with-Jensen _time_ on his hands. But then Susan, the lady who was helping him, told him about Bubba and Sissy, the two rambunctious cuties in the last pen. They were found together as strays, roaming around out in the country all alone, and Susan said they were most likely brother and sister. They came in skinny and covered in fleas and ticks, half dead from heart worms, but they fought and they made it, both of them. Susan said the shelter had been waiting, trying to find someone to take them together, but she was afraid they were going to end up adopting them out separately. She said nobody wants two big dogs, especially two big, young dogs with the energy of puppies and a bad medical history.  
  
Jared took them out in the yard in back and played with them, tossed a ball for them and watched them race each other to chase it down, over and over. He gave them treats and taught them both to sit in under ten minutes. He watched them splash around in the plastic kids’ pool in the corner of the yard, wrestling and yipping at each other, and he just couldn’t _leave_ them there, blissfully unaware that their days together were numbered. He _couldn’t_. So he took them home, bought them a shit load of toys and treats - because if anyone ever deserved it, these guys do - and changed their names to Harley and Sadie, because he’s not having redneck dogs, okay.  
  
Honestly, he didn’t really think about what Jensen would say. And when he does think about it, he figures, _screw Jensen anyway_. What’s he gonna do, throw Jared out of the house? Refuse to let him live there with his dogs? Make him pay a fucking pet deposit, _now_ , after Jared’s been helping out around this place, working for free, taking care of things when Jensen’s not around, all these years?  
  
Jared almost hopes Jensen does make a big fucking stink about it, because Jared’s got his righteous anger all queued up and ready to go.  
  
But instead Jen just listens to Jared explain, and then sighs.  
  
“God, you’re such a sucker dude, seriously.”  
  
Jared has to laugh. It’s not what he was expecting.  
  
“If by sucker you mean _not_ cold and dead on the inside like you, then yes.”  
  
“By sucker I pretty much just meant sucker.”  
  
“Whatever. My dogs are awesome.”  
  
“Just make sure your awesome dogs don’t tear up my awesome house, and we’re good.”  
  
Jared promises, even though Harley _may_ have already chewed up a small-to-moderately sized section of molding in the living room. Considering the fact that Jensen hasn’t stepped foot in the house in six months, Jared’s not too worried about racing out to fix it.


	6. Chapter 6

 

***** _Their lives ran in circles so small, oh they thought they’d seen it all_. *****

  
  
“You know you’ve got a birthday coming up. The big 3-0.” Amy smiles and hands him a plate to dry. “I was thinking maybe we should have a little party.”  
  
Jensen’s first thought is _party, awesome_.  
  
“We could invite the other couples from our Sunday School class, maybe that last Saturday in February?”  
  
His second thought is _should have known it sounded too good to be true_. He tries to keep his voice light, make his smile look real.  
  
“Sure babe, sounds good.” He turns his back to put the plates away.  
  
“Sweetie. You don’t like the idea.”   
  
It’s not a question. She knows him too well, he figures there’s no point lying.  
  
“Baby, I just. You know how I am with people I don’t know. Those people aren’t my friends. I don’t want to sit around being uncomfortable in my own house, especially on my birthday.”  
  
She finishes rinsing her hands and wipes them on the dish towel hanging from the drawer pull next to the sink, then comes over and wraps her arms around his waist, lays her cheek against his chest. His arms go around her automatically.  
  
“You know, I _could_ say that’s how you make friends. I mean Randy, Vic, even Jared. You weren’t born knowing them, Jensen. You had to spend time with them, get to know them before they became your friends.”  
  
He sighs into her hair.  
  
“I know, I just-“  
  
“I said I _could_ say it, not that I _am_.” She smiles up at him. “It’s your birthday, you should be able to do what you want. I was just thinking we’ve only gotten to use the wedding china that one time on Thanksgiving, and a dinner party might be fun, but. Anyway, I was being selfish.”  
  
Jensen kisses the top of her head, rests his chin there.  
  
“What if we invited some of the church people, _and_ my friends? A little of both.”  
  
“Will you actually talk to the church people, not just to your friends?” She turns narrowed eyes up at him, skeptical.  
  
“Promise.”  
  
“Deal.” She grins. “We can ask Randy and his wife, Vic and Lisa, Chris and Kelly, Cooper and Candace.”  
  
She lets go of him and pushes the dish towel into his hands, goes back to the soapy water in the sink. They have a dish washer, but apparently it doesn’t get things clean enough. Also, Amy’s mom told her once that the time she and Mr. Hulsey spent in the kitchen after dinner every night, washing and drying dishes and talking, was the bedrock of their marriage. Jensen tells himself drying dishes is no big deal, it’s twenty minutes and it makes Amy happy, so where’s the harm? He doesn’t mention that his parents seem to be doing just fine, even though they use the dish washer.  
  
“And what’s the guy’s name, on your softball team? With the red hair?”  
  
“Denny.”  
  
“Right, I sat with his wife at a few games, we could invite them.”  
  
“And Jared.”  
  
“Is Jared seeing someone?” She hands over the skillet they used to fry the eggplant parmesan. Jensen swallows, because the truth is he doesn’t know.  
  
It’s not that he’s been avoiding Jared, not at all, it’s just. It seemed easier to make a clean break. Just for awhile, he’s been telling himself. Just steer clear of Jared for a little while, let things settle with Amy, get into the swing of married life, then bring Jared back in, a little at a time.  
  
Sometimes he feels like a fucking alcoholic, going cold turkey, getting completely dried out and clean before he lets himself have another drink, just socially, just to see if he can handle it without losing his shit again.  
  
“No. I mean, I don’t think so.”  
  
“Well, it’s kind of shaping up to be a couples thing sweetie. I don’t want him to feel awkward being here alone.”  
  
Jensen is aware that his wife doesn’t like his best friend. He can’t imagine anyone not liking Jared, it seems physically fucking impossible to him, but she doesn’t. And that’s fine, everyone doesn’t have to be pals, he’s a big boy, but this is his birthday. His thirtieth birthday, and they’re having a party, and the idea that they’d invite some of his friends – some of _Jared’s_ friends – and not Jared, is just.   
  
There’s just no way.  
  
He calmly stacks the skillet in its assigned spot, in the bottom cabinet next to the stove, inside the bigger skillet and under the smaller one, just the way Amy likes it, and turns.  
  
“If it’s such a big deal, I’m sure he can find a date.” His tone is a little harder than he meant for it to be.  
  
Amy just nods, puts on her forced, cheery smile.  
  
“Of course he can, sweetie. I’ll send an evite next week.”

**= = = = =**

  
The party is okay, at best. The church group sits around the dining room table, some of them drinking wine but most of them sipping soda. Jensen’s friends sprawl around the living room, drinking beer and mixing cocktails with booze they brought themselves, laughing loudly and cursing and getting disapproving looks mostly from Amy, but sometimes from the other people gathered around the table as well. Jared brings a girl named Holly that everyone but Jensen has obviously already met, and Jensen tries not to mind that he’s so far out of the loop these days, especially since he knows it’s no one’s fault but his own. They work together at Dell, and she’s tall and blonde and nothing like the girls Jared usually goes for, but she seems nice.  
  
Jensen feels like he’s splitting his time pretty evenly between the living room and the dining room, but Amy doesn’t seem to agree. She keeps calling him back in to hear some hilarious story about Chuck and Suzi’s twin girls, or listen to Kevin and Darcy talk about their mission trip Costa Rica. She keeps raising her eyebrows at him in that way that means he’s being impolite, so he takes a seat and listens, _hmms_ and _wows_ along with all the rest of the very polite, very dull people around the table, until a whole hour has ticked by - not that he’s watching the clock that closely. He gets up to pour himself some more wine, offers it around the table to the few who are drinking, then sneaks out of the kitchen and back to the living room.  
  
“Jenny! Nice wine glass. Is that what happens when you turn thirty, you get too old to drink the real stuff?”  
  
Jensen just grins and cuffs Vic on the back of the head.  
  
“Guess you’ll find out in – what is it? Ten months?”  
  
Lisa cackles and pats Vic’s shoulder comfortingly.  
  
“Don’t worry baby, I’ll still love you even when you’re too old to drink like a real man.”  
  
There’s nowhere to sit, everyone squashed together on the sectional, Holly sitting half on Jared’s lap in the big arm chair, so Jensen sits on the floor, leans back against the arm of the couch He feels relaxed, comfortable, like the dining room and the living room are on two different planets. One planet, the one he lives on now, is completely foreign to him, and he closes his eyes against the thought. That planet is all insulated and protected, where everyone is good and pure and untainted, or at least pretends to be. Where everyone is polite and kind and sure of their lives and the path they’re on. Where everyone seems to believe that if you just keep your eyes and ears covered you can actually hear no evil, see no evil. Where one trip to Costa Rica apparently qualifies you as an expert in the ways of the world.  
  
And then there’s the other planet, the one where Jensen has lived, if he’s honest, for most of his adult life. The one where his friends are, and where he actually feels like he fits. He feels good here, on the planet with the fuck-ups and the misfits and the booze and the cursing and the people who are just muddling through, who are doing the best they can and aren’t quite sure they’re getting it right, but they’re trying, and at least they’re having fun. At least their eyes are wide open and they see the world as it is, don’t just pretend it is the way they want it to be. When Jensen opens his eyes and looks at his friends, all relaxed and laughing and happy, he can feel it in his gut that he’s exactly where he belongs.  
  
It’s not lost on him that his wife is firmly planted in the foreign world, and has been all night. Hell, has been for her whole life. He wonders if it’s worth the fight they’d have if he pointed out that she hasn’t been out to mingle with his friends once since they arrived, and how’s that for polite?  
  
The stroke of eleven-thirty seems to be some sort of secret signal to the church crowd, they all start packing up, making noises about getting home to sitters and early services in the morning. Jensen plays the good host, shakes hands and kisses cheeks, tells everyone thanks for coming and walks outside with his arm around Amy to see everyone off.   
  
Before they even make it back inside, his friends are filing out too, on their way to their cars.  
  
“You guys leaving so soon? It’s still early.”  
  
Jared claps his hand on Jen’s shoulder, his other hand entwined with Holly’s.  
  
“Think we’re gonna head to my place, we don’t wanna keep you guys up.”  
  
Jensen feels like a little kid, sent up to bed while the grown-ups are still up talking and laughing and having fun downstairs. He wants to scream that it’s not fair, but instead he just nods.  
  
“Yeah, okay. Well hey man, thanks a lot for coming.”  
  
“Wouldn’t have missed it.” Jared grins, the big one with the dimples out in full force, then he lets go of Holly’s hand and grabs Jensen in a bear hug.  
  
“Happy birthday, old man.”  
  
The huge, solid weight of him, his hot breath on Jensen’s neck and the smell of his skin – it makes Jensen want to fucking cry. It makes him want to hold on tight and not let go.  
  
Instead he does let go, because what choice does he have? Then he stands there with one arm around Amy and one arm twisted up behind his back, fist clenched into white knuckles while he watches them drive away, and for the first time thinks he might be in real trouble.  


 

 

***** _Somebody else’s arms will wrap around him. And in that moment,  
what will he think then, when I can’t touch him_? *****

  
  
Jared is in the kitchen nuking Hot Pockets when he hears the door to the side porch rattle. The dogs start barking their heads off, twirling and running, then he hears Jensen’s voice.  
  
“Hey, whoa. Whoa, it’s okay, nothing to worry about, see? I come in peace.”  
  
Jared grins and takes the plate out of the microwave, puts it up on top of the fridge to cool out of reach of his very sneaky and surprisingly fast dogs while he washes his hands. He only had to learn that lesson once.  
  
Jen comes in from the porch still crouched down, rubbing the dogs’ ears, scratching their heads.  
  
“You guys are all bark aren’t you? Huh?” He’s grinning, watching them run circles around him, tails wagging.  
  
“Okay, okay, out!” Jared uses his deep voice, the one they respond to, and at the word “out” they head for the wide-open back door. It’s early April, right in the middle of that window in the spring where it’s still cool in the evening, still too early for the mosquitoes to be out in full force. That window is depressingly short in Texas, and after ten hours in a cubicle a hundred yards from the nearest window, Jared needs as much fresh air and sunlight as he can get.  
  
“So. Jensen Ackles in the flesh. To what do I owe the honor?” Jared’s grinning, but there’s some truth to it and they both know it. Jensen just shrugs.  
  
“Thought I better come check out the monsters that have invaded my house.”  
  
Jared looks decidedly disbelieving.  
  
“Five months later?”  
  
“Um. Better late than never?” Jensen shrugs again, gives Jared an unconvincing grin. Jared narrows his eyes, tries to read Jensen’s face, but he’s out of practice.  
  
“Let’s try this one more time. What’s up, man?”  
  
Jensen’s looking down, biting at his lip, and now Jared’s getting worried.  
  
“Jen, seriously. What’s the matter?”  
  
Jensen lets out a big breath and closes his eyes, then opens them slowly, like he’s steeling himself. Then he meets Jared’s eyes.  
  
“I might. I mean, I think. I’m gonna do something kind of weird, and I don’t want to talk about it, I don’t want you to ask me any questions, okay?”  
  
Jared isn’t sure what to make of this, not sure if he should agree to a crazy fucking statement like that, but the look on Jensen’s face is kind of desperate, so he nods.  
  
“Yeah, yeah okay. Whatever you need, man.”  
  
“Yeah.” Jensen breathes deep again. “Yeah that’s what I thought you’d say.”  
  
Then he’s closing the distance between them and wrapping his arms around Jared’s middle, smashing his nose into Jared’s chest and squeezing tight. Jared almost falls down from the shock of it, catches himself against the counter just in time. Jensen’s eyes are closed, forehead pressed against Jared’s clavicle, and he’s breathing deep against the front of Jared’s t-shirt, fast, almost like he’s hyperventilating.  
  
“Okay. I know I said-“  
  
“No talking,” Jensen insists, voice muffled by Jared’s clothes.  
  
Jared’s got no clue what to do now, so he just lets his hands rest on Jensen’s back, rubs carefully and, he hopes, comfortingly. Whatever this is, it’s clearly not a sex thing; it’s something else entirely, and all Jared can think is that he hopes to God Jensen didn’t just find out he has   
terminal cancer or something, because this can’t mean anything except that something _bad_ is going on, and it would be just fucking like Jensen to pull some bullshit where he’s sick or hurt and doesn’t bother to tell anyone. Jared keeps quiet, but only because he promised.  
  
If he finds out Jensen is dying and just decided not to mention it, Jared’s going to fucking kill him.

**= = = = =**

  
Vic and Lisa decide to have a baby. But first, before that, they decide to have a big fucking party, because Lisa’s giving up booze while they’re trying to get pregnant, and she told Vic if he drinks while she can’t, she’ll cut his balls off.  
  
So, they invite everybody to Camp Verde for a weekend of drunken antics crazy enough to tide them over until after their still-imaginary kid is born.  
  
Jared drives Scotty and Jimbo and Chen out in his truck. He was gonna ask Holly, but the truth is it’s nothing serious with her, just something both of them keep coming back to for lack of anything better to do. She’s a cool girl, funny and smart and lots of fun, but he’d rather just hang out with his friends this weekend.  
  
He’s shocked as hell that Jensen managed to get Amy to let him come, much less that he got her to come, too. They’ve pretty much all stopped pretending to think Amy’s anything but the fun-killing wet blanket that she is, at least when Jensen’s not around. Jared knows she’s a nice girl, he really does, and he tries to remind himself of that whenever Jensen’s standing in his kitchen, clinging and breathing hard against Jared’s chest like he’s steeling himself to face the executioner before he goes home at night. So fine, she’s a nice girl, whatever. She’s still no fun, and nobody can convince him otherwise.  
  
They grill hot dogs and burgers and watch the Spurs lose by thirty to the Lakers in Game 2 of the Western Conference Finals. Jensen and Scotty and Chen, all the Dallas boys, pretend to root for the Lakers, but Jared knows they’re just pissed the Mavs went out in the first round this year. When it comes down to it, no one _really_ wants the Lakers to win. No one Jared wants to know, at least.  
  
It’s almost June, plenty hot for swimming even at night, so after dark they all jump in the pool. Jared manages to talk Amy into climbing on his shoulders in her modest one piece to chicken-fight with Chris and Kelly. Chris is too short, they’ve got no leverage and no chance, and turns out Amy is viciously competitive. It makes Jared like her like a thousand times better when she throws her arms in the air and whoops after they win best two out of three.  
  
Jensen lays on a chair by the pool, drinking whiskey straight and laughing, and Jared can’t remember the last fucking time he saw that. By the time they head out to the pasture for four-wheeler races, Jensen’s so drunk he can barely stand, Amy’s gone to bed, and Jared’s feeling like it’s almost like it used to be.

**= = = = =**

  
Jared barely registers the creak of the door, only partially awake when he feels the bed sag, feels the heat of a body behind him, too familiar to be anyone else.  
  
“What the fuck?”  
  
Jensen’s sliding up against him, chest bare and hot against Jared’s back, arm tight around his middle, stubble against the back of his shoulder when Jensen rasps _miss you, man_ , his mouth open and wet on Jared’s skin, and that’s all it takes.  
  
Jared grits his teeth and grabs for Jensen’s wandering hand before it wanders too low and discovers the effect it’s having – the same fucking effect Jensen always has, and this cannot be happening.  
  
“You’re drunk, dude. Amy is down the fucking hall, you’ve got to be kidding with this shit.”  
  
“Fuckin’ right I’m fuckin’ drunk,” Jensen hisses and slurs, just a little. “Drunk enough to say shit I shouldn’t be saying, I know okay? Drunk enough to do shit, man. Shit I been wanting to do.”  
  
His hand is petting at Jared’s chest, little semi-circle where its locked in place by Jared’s fingers, his face nuzzled up against the hair at the back of Jared’s neck, hot breath and low, low voice, barely a whisper, like it’s being dragged out of him against his will.  
  
“You don’t really wanna do this, man, come on. Cheat on your wife? That’s not you.”  
  
“You think you know,” Jensen sighs hot and desperate against Jared’s skin, fingers clawing, hips angling and pushing, making damn sure Jared can feel the hard ridge of his cock.  
  
“You think you know me, who I am; man, Jay. You have _no idea_. If you knew what I think about, the things I want, what I’m really like.”  
  
His voice sounds choked, painful like he’s dying, or close to it, and Jared can’t just lay there with his back turned, he _can’t_. So he turns, pushes, gets Jensen on his back and leans down over him, pins him when he tries to struggle. In the moonlight slanting through the window he can see the wet tracks on Jensen’s cheeks, and Jared’s can feel Jensen’s fear and hurt tear through his chest like fire.  
  
“So tell me.”  
  
“You’ll hate me.”  
  
“Try me.”  
  
“I can’t.”  
  
“You damn well fucking can, Ackles.”  
  
He rests his forehead against Jensen’s, feels the rise and fall of his chest, the hushed rush of his breath, leans down to whisper against his ear.  
  
“I’ve never wanted you to be anything but whatever you are, Jen. You don’t need to hide from me. Whatever it is, it’s enough already with the tortured act, alright? Come on, man.”  
  
Jensen squeezes his eyes closed, groans like it hurts.  
  
“I’m just. I’m so fucked up, man.”  
  
His whisper is ragged, barely audible. Jared leans closer.  
  
“We’re all fucked up somehow, buddy.”  
  
“No – I. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, I swear Jay. I just got up to take a piss, that’s all. To take a fucking piss and then.”  
  
His voice breaks high, like he can’t believe it, and Jared nods, their temples sliding against each other.  
  
“Okay, it’s okay. Then what?”  
  
“Then I. Then I came out, and there was your door. And there’s my room, right? Right there, and there’s Amy, my fucking _wife_ , man, and she’s there, asleep in our bed, and I’m standing there in the hallway having a fucking breakdown because that...that’s where I’m supposed to be. It’s where I’m supposed to _want_ to fucking be. It’s where I belong, man, and I just can’t. I couldn’t. Couldn’t make myself walk in there. I couldn’t, not when-”  
  
His voice is actually getting calmer, less distraught, and Jared can still feel the pulse in Jensen’s wrist racing against the circle of his fingers, but his breathing is evening out.  
  
“When what?” He finally asks, when Jensen’s quiet for awhile. “Huh? What’s so wrong with going back to your room? Amy grow fangs you didn’t tell me about?”  
  
He grins down, but Jensen’s just staring at him, glassy eyed and still.  
  
“It’s just, why do I always want the wrong thing? It’s like I always want the wrong fucking thing.”  
  
His eyes close again, like he can’t bear to look at Jared, and now Jared is the one with the racing pulse.  
  
“The things I’m supposed to want from her, those nice, normal fucking things, the things a husband and a wife do, I don’t. I don’t want to do any of it with her, and it’s not her fault, it’s _me_. I’m. There’s something _wrong_ with me, she’s perfect, and I can’t even. I just. I don’t _want_ it. I don’t want to live with her. I don’t even want to fuck her. I _don’t_. I don’t fuck her, man. My own wife, and I don’t. _Shit_.”  
  
His voice is so quiet, so soft he’s whispering, pained and short and cut off. It makes something in Jared’s chest feel too tight, like he can’t breathe deep enough.  
  
“Every day I hate leaving work, I hate going home and putting on this act, you know? Pretending like everything’s okay when everything’s so fucking _fucked up_. I thought if I just stopped. If I just made myself focus on _her_ , on doing the right things instead of the wrong things, I thought everything else would just go away, but. Instead it just keeps getting worse.”  
  
Jared’s still thinking about Jensen dreading leaving work, dreading going home; thinking about the time he’s been spending, in between those two parts of his day, standing in Jared’s kitchen, clutching and deep-breathing like he’s getting ready for battle, like pressing his nose against Jared’s chest and inhaling open-mouthed against his t-shirt is shoring him up somehow, taking away something painful and replacing it with something soothing and calm, and how Jensen’s eyes always look resigned but determined when he leaves.  
  
Jared knows he’s got to tread carefully here. Jensen has just said more about himself, about his fucking _feelings_ in the last five minutes than he’s ever said in the four years they’ve known each other, and Jared’s got to say just the right thing, got to be painstaking and slow with his words, to make sure Jensen doesn’t spook and clam up.  
  
“So, you.”  
  
Jared stops, clears his throat, drops his forehead against Jensen’s shoulder to make it easier for both of them, no eye contact.  
  
“So you’re saying. I mean, if you don’t want her. What do you want that’s so wrong?”  
  
Jensen’s sigh skates along Jared’s ear, ruffles the messy tangle of hair there.  
  
“Jay, I. I know it’s not right, I know it’s not what you wanna hear or what I should be saying, but I can’t. I just can’t make it _stop_. I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.”  
  
Jared knows Jensen is more than a little drunk; hell, he personally saw at least half a bottle of Jack disappear down Jensen’s throat, and that was just the part he witnessed. He also knows if it wasn’t for that bottle of Jack, this conversation would not be happening. He knows he should respond, but he feels paralyzed by fear – of saying the wrong thing, or saying the right thing. He’s not really sure what qualifies as what anymore, all he knows is he can’t have this conversation, not _really_ , not in good conscience, when Jensen’s drunk, lying in his bed, with Amy sleeping just next door.  
  
“Jen. Listen to me.”  
  
Jared lifts his head up and looks Jensen in the eye.  
  
“You don’t have anything to be sorry for, okay? _Nothing_ , and I mean that. Nothing you could say would make me hate you, just trust me. I know you’re hurting man, and I want to help you, I do, but you are _drunk_ , and your wife is on the other side of the wall. We can’t do this, not now. Okay?”  
  
Jensen nods slowly.  
  
“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”  
  
“Okay. Now you’re gonna go back to your room, okay? And we’re gonna talk when you’re sober. Yeah?”  
  
“Yeah.” Another slow nod, and Jensen moves under him, slides to the edge of the bed and stands up. Jared reaches for his wrist, tugs till Jen looks back.  
  
“Whenever you’re ready, Jen. I’m here, anytime.”  
  
Jensen doesn’t drink the rest of the weekend, and he acts like everything’s fine - if fine includes pretending not to avoid Jared while actually avoiding him like the plague. Jared watches Jensen smile at Amy, watches him kiss her and laugh with her and hold her hand, watches the way his eyes never quite make it up to Jared’s own and wonders what the fuck is going on in Jensen’s head.  


 

 

***** _Rays of light through my Shiner Bock bottle make me wanna turn the key  
and put down the throttle, get lost down Thirty-Five_. *****

  
  
“So why don’t we start with the two of you telling me why you’re here.”  
  
Amy looks at Jensen, but he keeps on looking at his hands. It doesn’t matter, he knows she’ll take the lead anyway. She always does.  
  
“Well.” Amy clears her throat and tightens her grip on Jensen’s bicep. “We’ve been married right at a year now, and it’s been. Different, I think. Than what we thought it would be.”  
  
The woman, Elise, smiles knowingly.  
  
“It almost always is, honey.”  
  
Amy smiles, somehow reassured by this news, and continues.  
  
“We’ve been having some problems with merging our lives, I guess. We dated for so long before we were married, and knew each other so well, I just thought it would be so simple, but. We lived in different cities most of that time and I guess the little habits, just day-to-day things that we probably never ran into when we were only together for a weekend at a time, those have been the hardest to navigate.”  
  
Elise nods sagely.  
  
“Very common problems, lots of couples experience these same types of things. Marriage is no cake walk, it’s a constant balancing act, and it can be a tough one to learn.”  
  
Amy smiles and squeezes Jensen’s arm.  
  
“Jensen,” Elise turns on him. “Would you like to add to or maybe re-interpret anything that Amy’s said so far?”  
  
He fights the urge to roll his eyes.  
  
“Nope, I think that pretty much covers it.”  
  
She fixes him with a shrewd gaze and scribbles on her notepad. He figures she’s writing _husband is an asshole_ , or something like that. He’s sure she’s already decided who the trouble maker is, and they’re barely ten minutes into their first session.  
  
It’s all very polite and non-invasive at first, a bunch of psychobabble mumbo-jumbo about communication styles and emotional intelligence and how men are from Mars and women are from Venus. It takes a few sessions for shit to really get personal.  
  
“Let’s talk about how things are connecting on a more intimate level, at home.”  
  
Elise smiles a benign, kind smile, and Jensen immediately tenses.  
  
Amy blushes bright red next to him, and he fights the urge to roll his eyes again. His wife is a fucking physician, she knows everything there is to know about human anatomy, reproduction, and sexual health, but she acts like a school girl when the subject comes up in conversation.  
  
Not that Jensen is any more eager to talk about it, but at least he can do it without turning the color of a fire engine.  
  
“How often would you say you’re intimate?”  
  
Amy looks at Jensen, eyes wide.  
  
“Not often,” he says, too harsh and too fast, and he feels like a prick immediately. It sounds like he’s complaining, like he’s blaming it on Amy. They both know it’s not all her fault.  
  
Elise just nods and jots in her notebook.  
  
“And do you have a clear picture of why that is, or is that something we need to explore?”  
  
Jensen’s quiet this time, and Amy clears her throat.  
  
“I think that maybe. I think that’s something we need to explore.”  
  
Jensen grits his teeth and watches the clock on the wall.

**= = = = =**

  
Jensen’s sitting on the back porch of the townhouse they were only going to live in for six months. It’s been a year now, and they’ve stopped looking for a place to buy, stopped even talking about it. Jensen really doesn’t mind. This place has a nice little yard with a clear view of the sun setting over the trees and hills to the west, and he couldn’t give a fuck less that it’s still 90 degrees at sunset, he’s watching the sun fall down and drinking a beer, thinking about a story Jared told him once, about going to a bar on 6th Street with his brother when he was still in high school, and how he ordered Shiner because he didn’t know what else to say.  
  
He peels the mustard-yellow label off the bottle, shreds it into little pieces.  
  
The therapy hasn’t been all bad - Jensen gets to keep beer in the house now. Not that he wasn’t _allowed_ to before, exactly. It’s just that finally, after much discussion, they decided together that having beer in the fridge wasn’t actually a deal breaker for Amy. They’ve spent a lot of time going over _deal breakers_ – things you absolutely can’t live with, or in some cases without, versus _preferences_ \- things you would like to be this way or that way, but that aren’t actual necessities.   
  
Amy has a fucking laundry list of preferences, and trying to do everything the way she _prefers_ has been making Jensen feel claustrophobic, twitchy and caged in. But Elise is pretty good at working Amy, getting her to see things in a way Jensen can’t, and now look - Jensen can actually drink a fucking beer in his very own house without Amy hovering over him with her Disappointed Face on. He supposes that’s a fucking victory by someone’s standard, he’s just not sure if it is by his.  
  
They have homework now, too. They have to do shit like engage in foreplay without having actual sex. Jensen feels like telling Elise that they’ve already done that. For _five years_. But he doesn’t, he just does his fucking homework, spends an hour every fucking night kissing and touching and rubbing naked against his wife and still not ever fucking her, and he doesn’t even care. If this is supposed to be whetting his appetite, stirring up some fiery passion that will make him crazy with need for her, he knows that’s a hopeless cause. Amy is pretty and smart and nice and polite, she’s not someone who makes you want to rip her clothes off and fuck her on the kitchen table.   
  
And even if she _did_ make you want to do that, she’d never _let_ you do that, so what the fuck would it matter.  
  
It was easier for awhile, somehow, when he could stop by Jared’s after work before he came home. Something happened on his birthday, when Jared hugged him. Feeling how solid Jared was, how strong, _remembering_ that, it was almost like Jensen thought he could borrow some of it, or something, if he just held on tight enough. And it seemed like it was working, for awhile.  
  
But now he can’t go to Jared’s anymore, he fucked that right up, and he doesn’t even know what he’d say to Jared now if he got up the balls to actually face him. So he just sits, sweats in the sun, counts down the hours until he has to go not-fuck his wife, and wishes he could get in the truck and just drive and not look back.  


 

 

***** _You can put up your dukes, or you can bet your boots but I’m leavin’ just as fast as I can_. *****

  
  
When Holly got a real boyfriend, Jared started hanging out with some different people at work. Not that it was awkward, exactly. More just that it wasn’t particularly comfortable. After that little experience, the smart thing to do would be stop dating co-workers, but Jared has never claimed to be smart, at least not when it comes to shit like this.  
  
Instead he goes to a happy hour with some people from a different department, and meets Mark. Mark asks him if he knows the score of the Cowboys preseason game, and offers him weed. For these reasons, as well as some others that may or may not be related to Mark’s very deep voice, dirty blond hair and prominent freckles, Jared takes him home.  
  
He’s never sucked a dick before, but he sucks Mark’s, and he fuckin’ likes it. He also likes the way Mark brings treats for his dogs, and the way he looks in his swim trunks when then they’re lounging around the pool. He’s smart, and fun, and easy. He doesn’t ask for much, demands even less, and when he fucks Jared for the first time that’s it, Jared’s sold. He can date a guy, why the fuck not?  
  
He takes Mark out with him one night, drinking with Jimbo and Jordan. Jared’s had a few, and when Mark goes to the bathroom, he tosses back one more shot and figures _what the fuck_.  
  
“So, you know Mark?” He asks, jerking his head toward the bathrooms.  
  
“You mean the Mark who’s been sitting across from us all night?” Jordan looks at him like he’s got a fuckin’ screw loose. “Yeah, I met him earlier.”  
  
“You know, when you introduced us?” Jimbo snorts and shakes his head.  
  
Jared just nods, and swallows.  
  
“Yeah, right. Well we’re, ya know. Fucking.”  
  
It’s dead silence for a minute, then Jimbo cocks his head to one side and narrows his eyes, trains them on Jared.  
  
“Dude, don’t be gross.”  
  
Jared shrugs.  
  
“For real, man.”  
  
“You’re bullshitting us.”  
  
“I’m so totally not.”  
  
“ _Dude_.”  
  
“Yeah, I know.”  
  
“You don’t like _guys_.”  
  
“Turns out I do, sometimes.”  
  
Jimbo just gapes, and Jordan, who’s been quiet so far, finally nods.  
  
“I can see it,” he confirms, and takes a sip of his beer.  
  
“Uh, thanks? Or. Something?”  
  
Mark comes back to the table, and Jared manages to sit through about three minutes of uncomfortable silence before he drains his beer.  
  
“So, we’re gonna go then.”  
  
Mark looks at him funny.  
  
“Everything okay?”  
  
Jared levels a look at Jimbo and Jordan across the table, and clears his throat.  
  
“Apparently not,” he says pointedly, takes out his wallet to throw down a couple of bills.  
  
“Come on, J-man, don’t leave.” Jimbo reaches out to wave Jared’s money away. “You just, ya know. You gotta give us a minute here.”  
  
The uncomfortable silence returns, while Jared stands next to the table, practically tapping his foot, daring either one of his friends to make one false move. Mark stays on his stool, looking around for some kind of clue.   
  
Finally Jordan coughs, and looks at Mark.  
  
“So. You and Jared.”  
  
Mark cuts a look at Jared, first surprised then, Jared thinks, impressed. He turns back to Jordan with a smirk.  
  
“Yeah, man. I guess it looks that way.”  
  
Another beat of silence, then Jimbo breaks in.  
  
“So I guess he’s probably shitty in the sack, huh? Lot to learn?”  
  
Mark laughs and Jared smacks Jimbo in the head, and the rest of the night is smooth as glass.

**= = = = =**

  
Jared sees Jensen for the first time since Camp Verde at a flag football game at the ASSC. They’re on the same team, like always, but Jensen missed the first two games because he was at some couples retreat with his church, or so Jared heard. Not that he would know for sure, because he also hasn’t talked to Jensen since Camp Verde, and that was almost four months ago now.  
  
He thinks about that night sometimes, about the things Jensen said, the pain in his voice. He wonders if things would be any different between them now if he’d just let Jensen keep talking, fuck being drunk and fuck Amy being next door, fuck it all.   
  
He also thinks sometimes about whether or not Jensen has heard about Mark. He didn’t explicitly ask Jimbo and Jordan not to tell, but he did say he’d rather let people know in person, in his own time. He thinks they’ll probably respect that and keep it close to the vest, but all it would take is Jimbo opening his big fucking mouth to Vic, and all bets would be off. The thought makes Jared feel kind of nervous and panicky, even while he’s telling himself that it doesn’t make any difference, anyway.  
  
When he pulls up at the field and sees Jensen’s truck, he feels his heart rate speed up, just enough to be annoying. He pulls a jay out of his glove box; he’s got time, so he lights up and tokes a little, just to take the edge off. By the time he steps out of the car he’s decided he’s just gonna act normal, like nothing weird is going on at all. If Jensen chooses not to reciprocate, that’s his fucking problem.  
  
Jared slugs him in the shoulder as soon as he sees him; might as well get the hell on with it, whatever _it_ is gonna be.  
  
“How you been, stranger?” He grins his best grin, hopes it looks real. It hasn’t been seeing a lot of daylight lately, if Jared’s being honest.  
  
“Hey, man! Been good, how ‘bout you?”  
  
“Can’t complain, you know. Work and whatever, the usual.”  
  
“Yeah, those monsters aren’t tearing up the place are they?”  
  
Jared snorts, wants to say _like you’d notice if they were_ , but doesn’t. He just shakes his head.  
  
“Man, give me some credit. I’ve got them trained like little soldiers.”  
  
Now it’s Jensen’s turn to snort.  
  
“Yeah, I bet. More like they’ve got you trained, I’d put money on it.”  
  
“I’m telling you man, they know who the pack leader is.”  
  
Jensen cackles, shakes his head.  
  
“Pack leader, huh?”  
  
“Yeah, you know. You have to let them know who’s in charge. They’re pack animals, dude, they only follow the leader.”  
  
Jensen slaps him on the chest, grinning.  
  
“Okay, Pack Leader. I gotta get out there. I’m old ya know, gotta warm up so I don’t pull something.”  
  
“Okay, don’t break a hip or anything. I’ll catch you later.”  
  
Jensen jogs out onto the field, hand in the air by way of good-bye, and the grin slides off Jared’s face.  
  
No one who saw it or heard it would ever think so, but that was easily the most awkward conversation he and Jensen have ever had. He feels like puking, or crying, or maybe both, and just like that, Jared hears that voice in his head telling him that whatever was and whatever could have been, it’s gone now.   
  
He texts Mark from the game, asks if he can meet Jared at the house in an hour, then halfway through the second quarter fakes a sprained ankle. When Jensen barely even looks at it, doesn’t fuss over it and give him a million instructions about what to do and not to do when he gets home, that nauseated feeling Jared’s had in the pit of his stomach since they spoke earlier just gets worse.  
  
He fake limps to his car, already planning how he’s going to have to work late a lot this fall. He already knows he’s going to have to miss a lot, if not all, of their games. He goes home and lets Mark fuck him hard, begs for it harder. He keeps begging until he’s too exhausted to move, too exhausted to come again, then Mark slides up next to him, sucks at his neck and his ear, bushes his hair back off his face.  
  
“You wanna talk about it?” He looks down at Jared with worried eyes.  
  
“Not really,” Jared concentrates on keeping his voice from breaking. “But thanks for asking.”  
  
Mark _hmms_ against his shoulder, wraps Jared up in his arms and legs, holds him tight. Jared wonders if this could be good enough, and he thinks maybe it could.   


 

 

***** _Well you are still here, and I am still here. Whether I ever loved you’s not perfectly clear_. *****

  
  
“I’m just saying, there are people who understand me without me having to explain every little detail of what I think or how I’m feeling out loud.”  
  
“Uh huh.”  
  
Elise scribbles on her pad and doesn’t say anything else. Jensen fucking hates when she does that.  
  
“So I guess no, the answer is no. I don’t _always_ have problems communicating in relationships. It just depends on the person I’m trying to communicate with. Maybe it depends on if that person has problems communicating _with me_ , did we ever consider that?”  
  
Elise smiles.  
  
“Yes, Jensen, I think we’ve considered that. No one’s trying to say you’re the _only person_ who’s having trouble communicating, but we _are_ talking about you here. That’s the point of the individual sessions.”  
  
Jensen crosses and uncrosses his ankles on the ottoman, pulls a pillow from the couch across his chest.  
  
“So why don’t you tell me about a relationship where you feel better understood.”  
  
“I don’t know,” he sighs. “Like with my friends I guess.”  
  
“Can you give me some examples?”  
  
“Just, you know. Like take Jared, for instance.” Elise knows Jared by name, knows the whole cast of characters by now. They’ve been seeing her for months now; there’s not much he has to stop and explain anymore.  
  
“I mean we lived together for years, and it was fine, it was _fun_. We didn’t fight, we _never_ fought. And he was really fucking messy, which I hate, but ya know, I asked him to keep it in his part of the house and he did, and I could deal with that. He didn’t cook, but if I cooked he cleaned up and that was cool. If we needed groceries, somebody bought them, if the lawn needed mowing, somebody mowed it, nobody was keeping score. It just worked, you know? We _clicked_ , and it was _easy_. He understood the important shit and what didn’t really matter. We didn’t have to talk about everything for hours, or have a fucking chart on the wall to say who had to do what when, we just got each other. I mean I feel like I’m in fucking Kindergarten, here.”  
  
“I understand what you’re saying, but you have to understand there’s a big difference between living with a friend and living with a lover. The politics change dramatically, things suddenly don’t seem so simple anymore when emotions get involved.”  
  
“I don’t think that’s true,” he shoots back petulantly. “I mean, I don’t think it _has_ to be true, that it’s always so different.”  
  
He stops talking and crosses his arms over the pillow in front of him; Elise is still scribbling. When she finally stops, she fixes him with a look that he’s learned to fear.  
  
“I want to ask you a question.”  
  
His hands tighten on the pillow he’s holding, and he swallows.  
  
“Okay, so ask.”  
  
“Your relationship with Jared. Was it sexual?”  
  
He swallows harder, thinks about dodging the question, but it’s not like she can tell anyone. And it’s not like he’s stupid enough to think that Jared has nothing to do with his marital problems now.   
  
He figures maybe he needs to talk about it, to get past it. He clears his throat, speaks carefully.  
  
“Define sexual.”  
  
“Did the two of you engage in sexual activities, together?”  
  
“Define sexual activities.”  
  
Elise puts her pad down, another bad sign.  
  
“You’re acting like someone trying to get off on a technicality. You’re not on trial here, Jensen. You don’t have to answer any questions you don’t want to; all I want is to try and help you.”  
  
He bites his lip, then nods.  
  
“Okay,” he breathes. “Let’s do this fast, alright?”  
  
She smiles indulgently.  
  
“Let’s define sexual activities as anything from kissing to penetrative sex.”  
  
“Neither of those. But some other things, yeah.”  
  
“How often?”  
  
“Not much at first. Then, um. Everyday, pretty much.”  
  
She reaches for her notebook, but stops when she sees the look on Jensen’s face, and leaves it on the table beside her teacup.  
  
“And how long did that go on?”  
  
“Oh, I guess. Um. Like, two years, or so.”  
  
“While you were dating Amy.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“While you were engaged?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Since you’ve been-“  
  
“No! _No_. I wouldn’t.”  
  
She nods again, leans forward to put her elbows on her knees. Her voice is quiet.  
  
“Does Jared identify as gay?”  
  
“Identify?” Jensen shakes his head. “He’s not -. No. _No_.”  
  
She smiles, not her usual understanding therapist smile but a kind of sad one, instead.  
  
“And have you ever entertained the possibility that _you_ might be gay?”  
  
Jensen feels something weird and hot rush through his guts, and he has to excuse himself. He barely makes it to the sink before he’s vomiting up his lunch.

**= = = = =**

  
Elise makes time to see Jensen every day for a week. By Friday, he’s more confused than ever, in all respects but one. He’s not sure what he is, but he’s sure what he’s not, and that’s in love with his wife.  
  
“In my professional opinion,” Elise told him yesterday, “there’s really no point in continuing therapy as a couple. You aren’t invested in this relationship, Jensen. You don’t really want it to work. What you want is for it to be over.”  
  
He can’t argue with that, she’s just parroting his exact words back to him from Tuesday’s session, when he said _I just want it to all be over_.  
  
Tuesday was also the day that Elise asked if he thought Jared was in love with him. Jensen didn’t know how to answer, but something bright and hot and clear as a bell inside him screamed _I hope so_ , and he thought he was going to be sick again.  
  
Regardless of that, Elise is right about one thing - none of this is fair to Amy. Whatever fucked up shit he’s going through, whatever mess he ends up making of his life, he’s made enough of a mess of hers already. He has to tell her that this isn’t working, that it’s not _going_ to work, no matter how much counseling or how many church retreats they go to.  
  
That night they sit at the kitchen table and both cry, but she nods when he says what he has to say, and says she understands.  
  
“I understand, I do, I just. I can’t believe it,” she sniffles, sounding so sad and helpless Jensen just wants to take it all back. “I mean I knew it, I just. I still don’t know how this happened.”  
  
He just holds her hands across the table, rubs his thumbs over hers.  
  
“This isn’t supposed to happen to us, not to us.” She shakes her head like she can make it all go away.  
  
“I’m not supposed to get _divorced_ , Jensen. I’m not supposed to...I mean, what are people going to say?”  
  
He doesn’t know what to tell her. He knows his family will not be happy, but hers will be even less so. How do you explain a divorce with no reason? Nobody cheated, nobody was abused, nobody was out racking up thousands of dollars worth of debt unbeknownst to the other, or had a secret family on the side. It was nothing scandalous, nothing solid to point to and say _there, that’s why_. It was just too much stress, too much pressure, too much incompatibility, and not enough love.  
  
Not nearly enough love.  
  
Jensen moves some of his things to the guest room, and takes a long hot shower in the second bathroom. He closes the door on the low murmur and flickering blue light of Amy watching TV down the hall in what was, until two hours ago, their room. He climbs into the bed that he slept in before he got married, and for the first time in he can’t remember how long, he doesn’t toss or turn, just lays down and falls asleep immediately.


	7. Chapter 7

 

***** _Now the weather’s getting colder, hell it’s even cold down here. And the words that you  
have told me hang frozen in the air. Sometimes I look right through them as if they were not there_. *****

  
  
On Halloween, Jared lets Mark drag him up to Dallas for what Mark calls “Gay Christmas.”  
  
“There’s a costume parade and everything,” he says, “it’s awesome.”  
  
Jared isn’t sure how awesome a gay costume parade sounds, but he’s willing to give it a try. Mark’s only lived in Austin a few years, and Jared knows he misses all his friends back in Dallas, so they go.  
  
They take Friday off from work and drive up in the morning. Mark’s friend John has a spare room, and he’s happy for them to stay. When he meets Jared he shakes his hand firmly and raises his eyebrows at Mark.  
  
“Holy shit, it’s all true.”  
  
“What’s all true?”  
  
Mark just grins and John pats Jared on the arm.  
  
“Let’s just say, rumors about you were _assumed_ to be greatly exaggerated.” He sizes Jared up, head to toe, and shakes his head. “Not so. Not so at all.”  
  
Jared shifts a little uncomfortably, but Mark just laughs.  
  
“What he’s saying is, all my friends think I’m a liar. So, that’s nice.”  
  
Jared lets Mark dress him up as Batman, which makes Mark Robin.  
  
“Did you make your Batman and Robin action figures get it on, when you were a kid?” Jared’s trying to be patient while Mark gets him all costumed-up.  
  
Mark just pulls the laces on Jared’s rubbery, sculpted torso tighter, until Jared grunts.  
  
“I didn’t have the action figures. But if I had, then yes, you better believe I would have.”  
  
The parade isn’t really Jared’s scene – lots of drag, lots of campy outfits and lots of lascivious comments tossed his way. He never would have thought you could make so many sexual puns and innuendo about Batman, but he quickly learns better.  
  
It’s fun though, all in all; Mark’s friends are nice, and he gets a lot of free condoms and candy, so that’s a win-win as far as Jared’s concerned.  
  
They go to brunch on Sunday at a restaurant owned by a transgendered woman who calls them all darling and serves something called mimosas, which are delicious.  
  
“You’ve never had a mimosa?” John looks at him like he just grew a second head when Jared asks what they’re made of. “You are so not gay.”  
  
Jared always thought gay was more about liking dick than liking champagne with your breakfast, but he’s learning something new every day.  
  
They get back Sunday afternoon and spend the rest of the day making out on the couch. Mark gives Jared what is easily the longest and best blowjob of his entire fucking life, then stands up with a groan.  
  
“I gotta go home,” he sighs, pulling his jeans on first, then his t-shirt. “I’ve got laundry to do.”  
  
“I’ve got a washing machine.” Jared tugs on his belt loop.  
  
“If I stay, I won’t get any sleep.” Mark looks down at him knowingly, and Jared does his best to appear innocent.  
  
“I can be good, I swear.”  
  
Mark takes his hand and carefully removes Jared’s fingers from his jeans, looks down at him with a sad sort of expression that clearly does not mean anything good. Jared just closes his eyes, shakes his head.  
  
“Oh, fuck me. _What_? Just fucking say it.”  
  
“It’s just not gonna work out. You know that, Jared.”  
  
“What the fuck does that even _mean_ , work out? I thought we were just having fun, dude. Or did you just want to parade me around in front of your fucking friends, all - _look at my real-life Batman action figure, I get to fuck him, aren’t you all fuckin’ jealous_ \- and now what, Halloween’s over and you’re just done?”  
  
Jared can’t believe his voice sounds so mean, that he _said_ something so mean. He doesn’t know when he turned mean, but he has a bad feeling it’s been coming on for awhile now.  
  
Mark’s just staring, open mouthed, eyes narrowed and accusing, and Jared hangs his head.  
  
“I’m sorry, God. I don’t. I don’t think that, okay? I don’t know why I said that.”  
  
Mark slides his flip flops on and picks his bag up from the floor of the dining room.  
  
“Jared, look. I don’t know what it is that’s got you hurting so bad, but you’re obviously going through something. And I want someone that wants _me_ , not just a distraction or a good time, or whatever it is you’re looking for.”  
  
Jared just nods.  
  
“Yeah. Yeah, no, you’re right, and. I’m sorry I wasn’t. I mean, that I couldn’t be.” He shrugs helplessly. “Ya know.”  
  
“You’re an awesome person, man. And you can fuckin’ _rock_ a Batman costume. Whoever it is that’s got you strung out – they’ve got to be out of their fucking mind if they don’t love you back.” He smiles, points at Jared. “I mean that.”  
  
Jared appreciates the sentiment, but it doesn’t make the aching in his gut any less painful when Mark shuts the door behind him and Jared is left alone again.

**= = = = =**

  
“So what’s up?” Jimbo is sitting across from Jared in a booth at EZ’s, shoveling French Fries into his mouth and looking at Jared expectantly. “You back on the ladies now, or is it strictly dick from here out, what?”  
  
Jared sucks on his milkshake and considers the question.  
  
“I guess whatever comes my way, man. Hadn’t really thought about it.”  
  
“Well if I get a vote, can you get back on the pussy wagon please? It still kinda weirds me out, the whole dude thing.”  
  
Jared laughs.  
  
“Try not thinking about it so much, then it won’t weird you out.”  
  
“I mean, it’s cool or whatever - it’s just.” He makes a face and shudders. “I don’t know how you can do that shit, man.”  
  
“You really want to have this conversation? _Really_?”  
  
Jimbo stops with his burger halfway to his mouth, like he’s thinking about it.  
  
“Nah.” He takes a bite, but doesn’t let that keep him from continuing to run his mouth.”Let’s not and say we did.”  
  
“That’s what I thought.”  
  
“I’m just saying though.”  
  
Jared sighs and rolls his eyes, keeps slurping on his milkshake.  
  
“No, look, I’m just saying. Me, you, Scotty, Jordan, Chen; now Ackles is gonna be back in action. We could be hittin’ up the town, you know? If you’re gonna be cruising for dudes, that’s a whole different scene.”  
  
Jared puts the milkshake down, but carefully keeps his eyes trained on his straw, his hands gripped firmly around the cold metal tumbler.  
  
“What do you mean, about Ackles?”  
  
“Okay, maybe not right away, I mean I’m sure he’s gonna want to pussy around and cry in his beer for awhile or whatever, but eventually right? Everybody’s gotta move on eventually.”  
  
Jared stares at his milkshake and doesn’t answer.  
  
“Oh! And, speaking of - excellent excuse to go to a strip club. You should try and convince him, he listens to you. You know he’ll try to say he doesn’t want to, but dude. It’s what you do when you get divorced, right? Get drunk and blow money on strippers before your ex-wife can get her fuckin’ hands on it. That’s what _I’m_ sayin’.”  
  
Jared still says nothing, just sits there wondering how the fuck long this has been in the works, and if everyone knew but him.  
  
He’s been trying, _fuck_ ; he’s been trying not to think about Jensen and his stupid little drunken speech at Camp Verde last spring. Trying not to wonder if he should have done something differently, not to wonder why he so naively thought Jensen might really come and talk to him about it later, as if lightening might really fucking strike twice in his lifetime. He figured Jensen must have either been so drunk he doesn’t remember it at all, or regret it so much he’s just _pretending_ not to remember it at all, and either way Jared loses. As fucking usual.  
  
Jared had almost convinced himself that maybe Jensen had a genuine change of heart about Amy and was working it out at home. He’d convinced himself that _he_ was the fucking asshole, waiting for the demise of his friend’s marriage, circling like some kind of vulture while they’re trying to be happy together. And now it turns out none of that’s true at all; they’re not all peachy and happy, they’re not working it out, they’re getting fucking _divorced_.  
  
And still Jensen isn’t talking to him, and Jared is sick, he’s fucking _sick_ of wasting his time wondering why.  


 

 

***** _I woke up early Sunday morning, had myself a piece of toast.  
Had fifty dollars in my pocket, gonna chase myself a ghost_. *****

  
  
On Wednesday, Jensen drove to Dallas alone. He explained to his parents that Amy had decided to go see her family, so they were spending Thanksgiving apart, and it was no big deal.   
  
On Thursday, they had a lovely family Thanksgiving dinner, same as every year. Jensen ate too much turkey and pumpkin pie and watched the Cowboys slaughter the Seahawks.  
  
On Friday, he took his parents to lunch at Café Express, so his mom could get her favorite Shrimp and Avocado salad, as if maybe that would soften the blow. Then he told them the truth about Amy, and their plans for a divorce. After only a small scene at the restaurant, they went home and the rest of the day was spent alternating between crying, begging and yelling, all on the part of his parents. Jensen just sat on the couch for six hours and took it.  
  
On Saturday, he woke up gritty-eyed and miserable to stony silence from his mom. His dad was gone, but soon returned with Josh and his wife, whose job, it soon became clear, was to talk some sense into Jensen. After two hours of listening to them, to all their reasons why he’s making a big mistake, why marriage is hard for everybody but you don’t just _give up_ , Jensen politely excused himself, packed his bag, and drove home to find Amy glaring at him from the sofa with red-ringed eyes. Jensen shut himself in the guest room and stayed there all night.  
  
On Sunday morning, he makes himself coffee and toast before the sun is even all the way up. He re-packs his duffel bag with a few clean changes of clothes and leaves Amy a note on the dining room table: _Gone for a few days, I’ll check in soon_. He doesn’t know where he’s going, he just knows he has to get the hell away. At eleven a.m. he’s cruising through the hills of Burnet County, letting the cold wind blow in through his open window, when his cell phone rings. Amy.  
  
“There’s someone else, isn’t there?”  
  
“ _What_?”  
  
“You just leave, with no explanation, Jensen? Just disappear and don’t bother to tell me where you’re going? Tell me the truth; I think that’s the least I deserve. Is there someone else?”  
  
Jensen pulls off on the side of the road, rests his forehead against the steering wheel. He’s quiet for a long moment.  
  
“ _Jensen_?”  
  
Amy’s voice is bordering on hysterical. He doesn’t have to ask how it went with her family, her face yesterday and the fact that she was already home on Saturday when she’s off work until Monday told him all he needed to know.  
  
And Jensen’s thinking - he can take the blame, play the villain. He doesn’t even mind, he deserves it anyway. Maybe this would make it easier for her, easier for both of them; easier to explain, easier for people to understand.  
  
And then there’s the fact that technically, it’s kind of true. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.  
  
“Amy, listen to me, okay?” He speaks calmly and slowly. “I didn’t leave today because of anyone else. I had a hard weekend at home, and obviously you did too, and I just needed some space, and figured you’d be glad not having to deal with me. I’m just driving around, trying to clear my head. That’s all, okay?”  
  
She breathes out a low sigh that sounds like relief so he hurries on.  
  
“But you’re right, the least you deserve is honesty, and. I do have…feelings…for someone else. I did while we were together, and I want you to know that nothing ever happened, and I don’t know if anything ever will, but I think you should know that.”  
  
“What?” Her voice sounds shaky, disbelieving. “What? _What_? You mean you really. I didn’t think you _really_ , Jensen. Oh my gosh. _Ohmygosh_.”  
  
“I’m telling you the truth Amy, nothing did happen, and nothing has happened. Okay?”  
  
“Okay,” she sniffles, “okay, but. But you still.”  
  
“Just the fact that I could feel that way about someone else, I think. I think I knew that meant something wasn’t right with us. Does that-. I don’t know, does that make sense?”  
  
She’s quiet for a long time, just sniffling, sobbing quietly, and Jensen tries to keep his breathing even and resist the urge to pull back onto the road and into oncoming traffic.  
  
“You really love her.” She finally says, and Jensen cringes. He doesn’t think now’s the time to correct that particular statement.  
  
“I don’t know,” he tells her, “but I think. Maybe, yes. I think that maybe yes, I do.”  
  
She doesn’t say anything, just hangs up the phone.  
  
Jensen stays by the side of the road for an indeterminately long time before he finally pulls back on. He drives through Llano and down to Kerrville, right through Camp Verde and on to Bandera, circles all the way around the south side of San Antonio and comes back up through Seguin, Luling and Lockhart. He finally stops to eat something in Bastrop, sits on the back porch of the Roadhouse while the sun sets. The burger is so good, he thinks Jared would love it, so he buys a double with the works, just the way Jared likes it, and heads for Austin.

**= = = = =**

  
It should probably feel weirder, standing on the front porch of his own house, knocking because he doesn’t have a right to use his key anymore, holding a duffel bag and hoping to be let in. Instead it just feels sort of foreign, because he barely even thinks of it as his house anymore. It’s Jared’s now, for all intents and purposes at least, and when he hears the dogs barking, going crazy on the other side of the door as soon as he knocks, it just cements the feeling.  
  
He sees Jared peering down at him through the windows at the top of the door, then his face disappears and for a minute Jensen thinks Jared might really just leave him there. But then the door opens and the dogs are in the dining room behind a baby gate, and Jensen figures that’s probably what Jared was doing.  
  
“Uh, hey.” Jared looks down at his bag, then back at his face, with eyes as big as saucers.  
  
“Hey. You busy?”  
  
Jared’s laugh is sharp, more of a bark, really.  
  
“Dude, come on. You show up at the door after I haven’t seen you in months, and you want to know if I’m busy?”  
  
Jensen just shrugs. It would probably help his case if he tried to come up with some sort of banter, at least act like an actual living, breathing human being, but he can’t muster the energy. He feels like the walking dead.  
  
“Man, you look like a zombie.”  
  
Jensen laughs, completely unexpectedly. It sounds weirdly unnatural.  
  
“Funny, I was just thinking that’s exactly how I feel.”  
  
Jared doesn’t stop looking concerned, but he grins, reaches down to take Jensen’s bag.  
  
“Come on, come inside and sit.”  
  
Jensen does as he’s told. He sits at the dining room table and Jared brings him coffee, and that reminds him. He pulls the greasy wax paper package out of his bag and puts it in front of Jared.  
  
“Here, I brought you a burger. I mean, if you’re hungry.”  
  
Jared looks at him, raises an eyebrow.  
  
“You brought me a burger?” He sounds incredulous. Jensen just nods and sips his coffee. It’s black and sugary, just how he likes it.  
  
“A double, with everything on it. From Bastrop.”  
  
“From _Bastrop_.”  
  
“It was good, I thought you’d like it.” Jensen shrugs. It sounds stupid now, even though it made sense at the time. “You don’t have to eat it.”  
  
“Dude, I’m turning down a burger? You know better.” Jared unwraps and takes a bite, watches Jensen carefully. Jensen just keeps sipping steadily at his coffee, waiting. Finally Jared asks, like Jensen knew he would. In fact, he was counting on it.  
  
“So what’s up, Jen. What’s with the bag, and the burger, and the zombie routine?”  
  
Jensen nods. He was prepared for this. He rehearsed his answers on the way over, if he can only remember. He swallows, concentrates.  
  
“Amy and I, we’re. Well. I left, today.”  
  
Jared stops chewing, and his eyes get wide again. Jensen can see him trying to swallow his half-chewed food, and waves a hand at Jared’s face, shakes his head.  
  
“No, come on, not like it’s a surprise. It’s been coming, we had already decided, it just. It all hit the fan this weekend and. I told her, today.”  
  
Jared finally manages to swallow and take a breath.  
  
“Holy shit, Jen. Told her what, exactly?”  
  
This is the hard part; Jensen knew it would be. But he rehearsed this too, practiced just how to say it. He sips his coffee resolutely and forces himself to look at Jared. He knows that part is important.  
  
“I told her there was someone else. That I. That I think I love someone else.”  


 

 

***** _This was the question we never even posed, ringing like a siren in our ears_. *****

  
  
Jared’s lying in his bed, staring at the stars through the skylight, trying to get his heart to stop racing. Jensen is downstairs on the couch; Jared tried to insist on letting him have the bed but Jensen wasn’t having it. Jared would have argued more, but Jen looked ready to fall asleep at the table so he thought he should probably pick his battles.  
  
Jensen told Amy there’s someone else. That he thinks he’s _in love with_ someone else. And Jared didn’t know what to say to that, wasn’t prepared for that at all; hell, he was lucky he didn’t fall out of his chair or choke on his food, actually, so he settled for asking how she took it. Jensen explained the whole thing, how they’ve already told their families, how it didn’t change anything, all it did was add insult to injury, and he just needs a place to stay for a few days to give them both some time to deal without having to live down the hall from each other. Jared said he was sorry he didn’t have an extra bed; his old room has been empty since Jensen moved out and Jared moved upstairs. Jensen just looked at him for a long time, then shook his head.  
  
“It doesn’t matter, man. If I can just crash on the couch, I can get a hotel tomorrow.”  
  
“Jen, don’t be stupid. This is _your_ house. You’re not getting a hotel.”  
  
He gave Jensen the good pillows from his bed and his comforter too, and told him to sleep as long as he needed to. Then he came upstairs and sent an email saying he’s working from home tomorrow, just in case. He’s not sure Jensen should be alone, the way he looked tonight.  
  
He hears Jen get up and go to the bathroom, hears him rattling around in the kitchen, hears the TV turn on low. He figures if neither of them is sleeping, this is stupid. He gets up, thinks about pulling a shirt on, then thinks that’s ridiculous…then does it anyway, then takes it back off.  
  
God, he feels like a fucking twelve year old with a crush. He pads down the stairs.  
  
“Jen?”  
  
Jensen jumps about a mile, and hurriedly presses the mute button. He’s sitting there in his boxers with Jared’s comforter wrapped around his shoulders, hair going every which way.  
  
“Shit, sorry Jay. I didn’t mean to wake you up, I just. I couldn’t sleep.”  
  
“You didn’t wake me, I couldn’t either.” Jared shrugs. “Want some company?”  
  
Jensen looks up at him for a long minute, blinking fast almost like he’s gonna cry, and oh _shit_. Jared doesn’t know if he can keep it together if Jensen cries, seriously. But Jen takes a deep breath and shakes his head.  
  
“No, I’m good. You got work tomorrow, and. I shouldn’t keep you up.”  
  
Jared feels a little stung, if he’s being honest, but he reminds himself that Jensen’s going through shit he can’t even begin to relate to, so he just nods.   
  
“Okay, well. You know where I am if you need anything.”  
  
“Yeah,” Jensen just nods at the TV, doesn’t meet Jared’s eye. “Yeah man, thanks.”

**= = = = =**

  
Jared works in the morning from his room so he won’t disturb Jensen, who obviously fell asleep at some point and hasn’t moved a muscle or made a peep since. The dogs will only go along with the staying in the room plan for so long, though, so eventually he goes downstairs and works at the dining room table in full view of the couch, lets the dogs out to keep them quiet, and tries to concentrate on work. He’s hoping maybe Jensen will feel like talking more when he wakes up, because Jared has a lot of questions that he’s not sure if he’s allowed to ask.  
  
That is if Jensen isn’t dead, of course, which is starting to seem debatable by about three p.m.  
  
He finally wakes up when Jared’s paying the pizza guy, around six. Jensen rubs his face and scratches at his head and looks at Jared through his one open eye.  
  
“What time is it?” His voice sounds like his throat is full of broken glass.  
  
“Six p.m.”  
  
“You home from work already?”  
  
“I worked from home today.”  
  
“You mean you’ve been here all day while I’ve been sleeping?”  
  
He looks at Jared suspiciously, and Jared shrugs and grins.  
  
“I didn’t know you were gonna sleep _all_ day. God, lazy.”  
  
Jensen manages to grin with one side of his mouth, and Jared thinks that’s a start, at least.  
  
“I guess I was tired.”  
  
“I guess you were. Got Double Dave’s if you’re hungry.”  
  
“That’s my favorite.”  
  
“I’m aware.”  
  
They eat their pizza mostly in silence, Jared watching Jensen when Jensen’s not looking. Jen takes a shower and they watch Monday Night Football. When it’s over, Jensen yawns.  
  
“I guess I’m still pretty tired.”  
  
And okay, fine, Jared can take a hint. He says goodnight and heads upstairs; takes a long, hot shower, and when he jerks off he tries very hard to think of nothing in particular, nothing at all. He debates sending another email, working from home again, but he’s not sure Jen’s gonna take too kindly to the babysitter routine, once he starts getting back to his usual self. Jared pulls on his pajama pants and flops down on the mattress, then hears the stairs creak. He sits up like a shot, right in the middle of the bed.  
  
“Jen? Everything okay?”  
  
Jensen’s head appears over the top of the banister, but he doesn’t come past the threshold.  
  
“Yeah, I’m good - I just wanted to ask you. How drunk were you, at Camp Verde? The first night I mean, Friday.”  
  
Like Jared might not know what night he’s talking about.  
  
“Me? I wasn’t drunk.”  
  
“So you remember.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah I remember. I wasn’t sure you did.”  
  
“So when I said, last night. When I told you about Amy, that I told her there was someone else. Did you not ask, because you just don’t want to hear me say it?”  
  
Jared doesn’t know what to say to that. He didn’t ask because he didn’t want to push, figured Jensen would talk about it when he was ready. He didn’t ask because he’s a chicken shit who didn’t want to take the risk, didn’t want to hear an answer that wasn’t the one he was hoping for, and Jensen’s been so far removed from him for so long, there could be someone else he doesn’t even know about. He doesn’t think so, not really, but there _could be_. Jared could be misreading the whole situation, and end up looking like the fool he already feels like.  
  
“Jen, I-“  
  
Jensen cuts him off, rushes on.  
  
“It’s cool, you know. If you don’t want to hear it, that’s. I mean, I understand. I don’t want to make shit awkward between us, but I just. I just want to know that you _know_ , okay? That’s all; I just don’t want to be looking back later wondering if I didn’t say it right, didn’t make it clear or whatever, and if that would have made a difference.”  
  
“ _Jensen_.” Jared lets out his breath with a whoosh, heart pounding. “God. I want to hear it, okay? I don’t know how. I mean, what the fuck did I ever do to make you think maybe I _wouldn’t_ want to hear it?”  
  
“Then why didn’t you ask?”  
  
“I wanted to, I just. I didn’t know if you wanted me to.”  
  
Jensen just stands there, silent. Or at least Jared’s pretty sure he’s silent, but it’s hard to tell for certain over the racket of his own heart beating a million miles an hour.  
  
“Come here, okay? Just come here.”  
  
Jensen hesitates, but just for a few seconds. Then he walks over, stands by the bed and looks down. His face is pale in the dim light, freckles stark against sheet-white skin. Jared wants to fucking devour him, to grab him and hold on and never let go.  
  
Instead he just pushes the blankets back, makes a place for Jensen next to him. Jen sits down, swallows nervously. Jared can see his hands fidgeting on his thighs, curling and uncurling against his sweat pants.  
  
“Lay down. I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”  
  
Jared smirks, and Jensen shoots him a look from the corner of his eye like Jared’s being an idiot. It’s the closest thing to Jensen acting like Jensen that Jared’s seen in the last 24 hours.   
  
Jen leans back against the pillows, pulls his feet up on the bed, and Jared tucks the blanket up around him, scoots in close, puts his mouth to Jensen’s neck.  
  
“Who is it?” He whispers, hands running over the rapid rise and fall of Jensen’s ribcage. “I really, _really_ want to know. For sure. No more questions, no more hiding. I’m so fuckin’ sick of that shit.”  
  
“Yeah,” Jen nods, swallows. “Yeah, me too.”  
  
“So who is it?” Jared asks again, mouth right at Jensen’s ear, voice so low it’s barely audible. “This person you think you might love.”  
  
Jensen breathes in and out, and whispers.  
  
“It’s you.”  
  
Jared grins against Jensen’s shoulder, kisses him there, wraps an arm around and pulls him in tight. He feels the tension go out of Jensen just like that, watches his eyes close as he exhales. Something warm and comforting is rolling through Jared, and he thinks it feels exactly the way Jensen looks right now. It feels like fucking _relief_.  
  
“Guess what?” He noses against Jensen’s cheek, grinning so big he thinks his face might split open. “It’s you, too.”  


 

 

***** _Lord, I can’t believe it’s been such a long, long time since I’ve seen that Texas boy smile_. *****

  
  
“You want help?”  
  
Jensen’s stirring sauce on the stove and Jared’s crowding up behind him, chin on his shoulder to peer over at what he’s doing.  
  
“Nah, I’m good. Be ready in a little bit.”  
  
Jared grins, there’s a rasp of his stubbly cheek against Jensen’s for just the briefest of seconds, then he’s gone, back across the kitchen. Jensen knows Jared is being careful, he can see it; the way Jared approaches with caution, retreats quickly. It’s not Jared’s typical M.O., not by a long shot - nothing like his usual overzealous, act-first think-second exuberance, and Jensen figures it’s probably killing him to ride the brakes like this. But he’s testing the waters, trying to gauge Jensen’s comfort level, and that’s more than okay with Jensen. If they’re gonna have a big gay fucking romance, it’s gonna take baby steps, at least on his side.  
  
“Think I got time to take the kids for a spin?”  
  
Jensen looks back, and Jared’s leaned against the door frame, smirking at him, grin as big as ever, just watching. Jensen turns back to the stove to hide the pink stain on his cheeks.  
  
“Yeah, say thirty minutes?”  
  
“You’re the boss.”  
  
A few minutes later Jensen can see them out the kitchen window, Jared all bundled up in his fleece hoodie, holding the leashes in gloved hands as they jog out of the yard. He pours the sauce over the enchiladas and puts them into the oven, sets the timer, sits down on the couch and closes his eyes, breathes in and out slow.  
  
It’s been almost two weeks. Twelve days, if anyone’s counting, and Jensen most definitely is. So far, it’s good. Fucking _weird_ as hell at times, but good. Sometimes he wonders if maybe he should get a hotel, go home once in awhile, something just so they’re not together every second, but Jared certainly never acts like he wants that. Actually, he acts like he used to act, like Jensen remembers, back before everything got all fucked up.  
  
Jared seems happy, really happy, and that makes Jensen happy. As happy as he can be, considering his divorce papers aren’t even filed yet, his parents are still praying that he’ll change his mind, and his wife isn’t speaking to him, won’t even look at him when he goes home to pick up clean clothes. He doesn’t know what exactly she’s told her family, but he does know his mother and Mrs. Hulsey are in almost constant contact, so if Amy dropped any hints about Jensen and the _other woman_ , he’s pretty sure it would have gotten back to him by now.  
  
Jared comes in with a rush of cold air, all red-nosed and smelling like winter. They eat enchiladas and homemade guacamole and drink Dos Equis; Jared makes orgasmic noises throughout.  
  
“Dude, I haven’t eaten this good since you moved out. This is _awesome_.”  
  
Just when Jensen thinks Jared’s grin can’t get any bigger, it does.  
  
Jared cleans up and Jensen sits on the counter, drinking beer and talking. There’s a rumor the men’s basketball team may have an opening on their training staff for next season, and Jensen thinks he might have a legit shot at it. He’s friendly with their head trainer, has been with him in a couple of different professional development courses, and it never hurts to have an in. Not to mention, the pay scale on the staff of a marquee sport is a whole different world than where Jensen is now. Jared closes the dishwasher and sets the timer to start later, grabs another beer out of the fridge.  
  
“That would be fuckin’ sweet, man. Can you get me into the games for free?”  
  
Jensen huffs a laugh.  
  
“Leave it to you to focus on what’s really important, Jay.”  
  
Jared slaps him on the leg, heads out of the kitchen.  
  
“You know it. Let’s get our Madden on.”  
  
It’s Saturday, so they play video games until all hours and don’t even worry about the time. It’s almost three a.m. when Jensen beats Jared – _again_ – and Jared yanks the controller away from him, tackles him and pins him to the couch.  
  
“Show-off.”  
  
“Can’t help it if you suck, J-man.”  
  
There’s a spark in Jared’s eyes at that, his grin turns downright lecherous.  
  
“That reminds me, we should totally go to bed now. There’s something I’ve been meaning to show you.”  
  
They haven’t progressed beyond anything they’d already done, as far as sex goes, and that’s fine, that’s more than enough for Jensen right now. His brain is already on overload just going to sleep and waking up in the same bed with Jared, just being back in his old house, having Jared there day in and day out, smiling at him and making him smile, making him feel okay about life instead of guilty and mad and confused. But the look on Jared’s face is enough to have Jensen breathing fast, hard as nails in a matter of seconds.  
  
“I think you’re gonna like it,” Jared whispers against his ear, all conspiratorial, like this is top secret intel. He hoists himself up and tugs Jensen towards the stairs.   
  
Jensen has a distinct feeling the big gay romance is about to start in earnest.

**= = = = =**

  
It’s two days before Christmas, and Jensen’s packing his stuff to go home. Not because he wants to - it’s going to suck, frankly - but because he doesn’t know what else he’d do, if he didn’t go home. Jared invited him to come to San Antonio, careful to say he didn’t mean it _like that_ , but Jensen figures he’s already disappointed his parents enough, skipping Christmas would just be adding insult to injury.  
  
Dell closes early and Jared comes home at three in the afternoon with a fuckload of bags and boxes full of treats and baked goods that his co-workers gave him. Jensen eyes the stash, then Jared.  
  
“How many of these people would you say are trying to get in your pants?”  
  
“Roughly half. Sixty percent, tops.” He grins and stuffs a cookie in his mouth. “Word hasn’t hit the streets yet that I’m off the market.”  
  
They haven’t talked about it, exactly, not in so many words, but Jensen would be lying if he said he didn’t like hearing Jared say it, all matter of fact, like it’s a given. It makes Jensen breathe easier somehow, like maybe the ticking clock he hears in his head - the one that keeps telling him Jared isn't gonna wait around forever for him to get his shit together and start being _better at this_ \- isn’t ticking _quite_ as fast as it sounds.  
  
Jensen digs through the pile on the dining room table, eats a piece of fudge and breaks off a chunk of banana bread, opens a tin of peppermint bark and is on his second piece when he sees the sticker inside the lid. _Merry Christmas! - Mark_.  
  
Jensen drops the candy and holds the lid up in front of Jared.  
  
“Is that like, _Mark_ , Mark?”  
  
Jared’s eyes go wide and a flush creeps up his neck toward his cheeks. Jared _never_ blushes, so Jensen’s taking that as a yes.  
  
“Uh.” Jared swallows down his mouthful of cookie. “You knew about that?”  
  
Jensen smirks.  
  
“Dude. You think the ‘Jared’s dating someone named _Mark_ ’ storyline isn’t gonna make the rounds?”  
  
Jared hides his face in the fridge under the pretense of looking for the milk. When he finally turns around, Jensen’s sizing him up from across the kitchen, watching carefully.  
  
“So. He one of the sixty percent?”  
  
“No.” Jared finally meets his eyes. “Jen. God, _no_. We’re friends now, we hang out sometimes. I don’t know, is that weird?”  
  
“I’m not sure,” Jensen says honestly. Elise has been working on him, trying to get him to do that more. _Say what you mean, Jensen_ , she keeps telling him, _not what you think people want to hear_.  
  
“Look, if it bugs you, ya know. I mean, it’s not worth it to me, honestly. I can-“  
  
Jensen holds up his hand, shakes his head.  
  
“Hey, no, come on. Fuck that. We’re not gonna do that shit. You’re friends with who you want to be friends with. I’m a big boy.”  
  
Jared’s face goes from worried back to perma-grin in about half a second.  
  
“You were jealous.” He smirks. “That’s fucking _adorable_.”  
  
Jensen goes back to his peppermint bark and chooses not to dignify that with a response.  
  
“So why’d you break up, anyway?”  
  
Jared is across the kitchen before Jensen can blink, wraps his arms around and holds on tight. He smells like cinnamon and sugar.  
  
“You really need to ask? I thought the _he wasn’t you_ was sort of implied.”  
  
And Jensen knows, or he’s starting to; he’s starting to see how the whole time he was with Amy, it was just as hard on Jared as it was on him. He hadn’t even realized how sullen, how _un-Jared-like_ Jared had become until these last few weeks, when Jared’s been laughing and smiling and looking just like he always did, before Jensen came along and fucked up his life.  
  
Jensen wraps his arms around too, and squeezes.   
  
“I’m sorry Jay.” He puts his mouth against Jared’s ear. “I’m really fucking sorry.”  
  
Jared pulls back, looks at him quizzically.  
  
“For what?”  
  
Jensen sighs.  
  
“For everything.” He pulls on the back of Jared’s neck, presses up until they’re forehead to forehead, nose to nose. “For being so stupid for so long.”  
  
And Jared’s grin just keeps getting bigger.

**= = = = =**

  
At dawn on Christmas Eve, Jared wakes Jensen up with a blow job, then pulls something out of his bedside table and lays it on Jensen’s chest.  
  
“What’s this?”  
  
“Your Christmas present.”  
  
“I thought I just got my Christmas present.”  
  
Jared grins.  
  
“It comes in two parts.”  
  
Jensen turns the round chip over in his hand, tries to make out the words.  
  
“L’Auberge du Lac. It’s the classiest Riverboat Casino in Lake Charles. Which is, ya know, still not that classy, but whatever.” Jared smiles up at him from where he’s still laying between Jensen’s legs, chin on Jensen’s belly. “We’re going there for New Year’s Eve. I think we need to get out of here.”  
  
“Oh yeah, why’s that?” Jensen smiles back.  
  
“Mainly so I can get you drunk and convince you to let me do filthy shit to you.”  
  
“That. Um.” Jensen swallows. “That sounds like a pretty good plan.”  
  
“Yeah?” Jared looks a little unsure, and Jensen wishes this was fucking easier. He wishes he didn’t have that fucking voice in the back of his head calling him nasty names, screaming at him that it’s a sin, it’s wrong wrong _wrong_ to want the things he wants to do with Jared. He thinks Jared’s right, booze will definitely help with that – at least in the short term.  
  
“Yeah.” He nods with way more certainty than he feels. “It’ll be good.”  
  
Jensen bought Jared a special, no-tangle double leash for the dogs, for when they go running. Then he bought him a five-pack of Spurs tickets that they were selling for Christmas, five big games down the stretch - including the Mavs - with an option to purchase play-off tickets before they go on sale in April.   
  
He thinks his gifts are pretty good, and after they’re dressed and the cars are packed up, they’re ready to head out, he calls Jared back inside to give them to him. Jared looks like - well, like a kid on Christmas - looking carefully at each game ticket, examining the opponents.  
  
“These are really some good ones, man.”  
  
“That was sort of the point.”  
  
“And you’re coming with me to all of these, right?”  
  
“Unless you got somebody else you want to take.”  
  
Jared just rolls his eyes, takes the tickets up to his room and carefully stores them somewhere safe, comes back down and hangs the new leash on the hook on the side porch, then pulls on his coat.  
  
“Well,” he shrugs, pats his pockets for his keys. “I guess I’ll see you in a few days.”  
  
Jared goes to hug him, but Jensen puts a hand on his chest, holds him off.  
  
“The thing is.” He swallows, looks up at Jared. “I wanted to give you something better, but. I didn’t know if I’d have the balls.”  
  
Jared’s eyes get bigger as Jensen pushes him against the wall of the hallway.  
  
“Those were the back-up presents, just in case I chickened out.”  
  
He runs one hand around the back of Jared’s neck, slides the other one up from where it rests on Jared’s sternum, up over his neck. Jensen runs his thumb across Jared’s cheek bone and tugs on his neck, just enough.  
  
“What I wanted to say is thank you. And I’ll miss you. And,uh. And-”  
  
Then he leans up and brings their lips together, swallows Jared’s surprised gasp then feels Jared’s hands come up, clutching at Jensen’s jacket, hauling him close, sealing their mouths together hard and tight. And it’s a little weird, leaning up to kiss someone, but Jared feels as good as he always does, solid and warm against Jensen, his mouth tastes like coffee and toothpaste and he’s holding onto Jensen like he might never let go. Which would be fine with Jensen, perfectly fine, except for the small details like being expected at his parents’ and the necessity of breathing. When he finally pulls away, he’s panting.   
  
Jared’s head knocks back against the wall, eyes closed, but he’s grinning wide, lips pink and shiny.  
  
“I don’t think it’s too early to call it. Best. Christmas. _Ever_.”


	8. Chapter 8

 

***** _I drank my first beer on the Louisiana State Line. My first time to see the other side_. *****

  
  
They drive across the Lake Charles Bridge at about four in the afternoon on New Year’s Eve. Jensen’s never been here, never seen the iron pistols built into the guardrails on the bridge, never seen the riverboats. He takes it all in while Jared tries to remember the way to the casino.  
  
They decided that for New Year’s Eve at a casino they should suit up, even though it meant Jensen had to go home to get a suit and risk running into Amy. Jared’s only seen him in a suit a few times, a handful of weddings and one funeral, but he never got to gawk at him like he gets to now. Jared likes the way Jensen blushes when he realizes Jared’s checking him out, likes the way he says _take a picture, it’ll last longer_ , and sometimes adds _pervert_ , just for good measure. He can’t wait for the day when he can just tell Jen how fucking sexy he is, tell him all the things he makes Jared want to do to him, but today is _not_ the day. He doesn’t want Jensen to freak out any more than he’s already freaking out, because Jared had to go and make it sound like he was planning some degenerate sex vacation.  
  
Which, he wouldn’t object or anything. But he knows some shit just doesn’t come easy for Jensen; he knew this was gonna be a fucking slow process going in, and not just when it comes to sex, but he wouldn’t take it back, not in a million years. He just wants Jensen to relax and have some fun, gamble a little, drink a little, and get off as many times as is humanly possible. What’s wrong with that?  
  
They play some blackjack, shoot some craps. A group of girls at the roulette wheel beg them to join in, and Jared is immensely entertained by watching them all fall all over themselves to get Jensen’s attention. Not that he can blame them. Jensen flirts and jokes, easy and charming, and it makes something burn warm in Jared’s chest to know Jen’s not like this very often; he’s only like this when he’s comfortable, when he feels totally secure, and Jared knows it’s the fact that he’s standing here, that it’s his presence making Jensen feel comfortable enough to let loose and have a good time.  
  
They lose big at roulette, drink truly terrible free champagne with the ladies, countdown to midnight and share kisses all around. They keep playing and drinking until Jensen’s drunk enough that Jared doesn’t even worry when he leans over Jensen from behind, lets his arm fall over Jen's shoulder and wrap down across his chest, nuzzles up to his cheek and tells the girls _sorry ladies, I’m taking him home_. Jensen just smiles and shrugs as Jared mouths at his neck, and Jared watches from under his lashes as the girls’ eyes go wide, then narrow and hot. The boldest one, the blonde in the black dress, leans in close.  
  
“Sure there’s no room for a third?” She smiles with lips red as sin, wet tongue sneaking out to lick at the side of her mouth, and Jared’s not even tempted. If he didn’t already know he was a fucking goner, he got his proof right there.  
  
He just leers and shakes his head, steers Jensen to the elevators.  
  
As soon as the door closes on the sweet ass room Jared got them, he throws open the curtains so the lights come in off the lake, turns off the overheads and leaves a lamp on in the corner, and pushes Jensen down on the bed. Jensen laughs deep down in his throat as Jared crawls up over him and straddles his waist.  
  
“Is this the part where you do filthy shit to me?” He’s smiling, looking drunk and happy and not at all worried. Still, Jared doesn’t want to get too cocky.  
  
“Only if you want me to,” he grins down, unbuttoning Jens shirt and sucking on his neck, his chest.  
  
“Always want you to, Jay,” Jensen’s panting. “I want, I just-“  
  
“Shh.” Jared kisses him, hot and dirty. “I know. I promise, I really, really do.”  
  
He slides off the bed and tugs at Jensen’s shoes.  
  
“I know, for instance,” he tosses the shoes, followed by the socks, into the corner, “that you get nervous every time I blow you, because you’re tallying up how many you owe me.”  
  
He climbs up and works at Jensen’s belt next.  
  
“You think I’m keeping track, but I don’t give a shit.” With a yank Jen’s pants come open, and Jared slides his fingers under the waist, under the elastic of Jensen’s underwear and tugs. Jensen groans and lifts his hips and his cock slides free, bobbing dark and swollen against his belly. Jared smirks and swipes at it with his tongue, makes a few wet, leisurely swirls around the head, listens to Jensen whimper before he moves away, tugs the pants all the way off. He stands at the foot of the bed and starts with his own clothes, and Jensen’s eyes come open, focus just long enough to watch Jared’s shirt come off, then his clumsy fingers are finishing with his own shirt, tossing it aside while Jared’s shucking pants and shorts, socks and shoes, all as fast as he can.   
  
They both hiss and buck, grab on tight when they’re finally pressed skin to skin, head to toe on the bed.  
  
“If I wanted to suck your dick,” Jared grins down at him, “do you think you could suffer through it?”  
  
Jensen stares blankly, and starts to look uncomfortable.  
  
“It’s just not really fair.” His gaze is locked somewhere around Jared’s jaw, not meeting his eyes. “You know, when I don’t-“  
  
Jared clamps his hand over Jensen’s mouth, shakes his head.  
  
“You seem to think it’s some act of fuckin’ charity I’m performing, dude. Did you ever think I might like it?”  
  
“Do you?” Jensen croaks, when Jared takes his hand away. “Like it, I mean?”  
  
“I love how you taste,” Jared purrs against his neck, slotting their hips together, grinding down until Jensen whimpers. “I love how your cock feels in my mouth and how you sound, how you look when you come.”  
  
“You forgot smell,” Jensen pants, and smirks up at Jared with half-closed eyes.  
  
“Yeah, well, I love that too.”  
  
“Well I guess since you love it so much,” Jensen’s grinning again now, “I wouldn’t want to deprive you.”

**= = = = =**

  
They stumble to the complimentary breakfast buffet with stubbly faces and sunglasses on, shirts rumpled and voices ragged. They see a couple of the girls from last night, looking to be in much the same condition.  
  
The sight of them seems to jog Jensen’s memory.  
  
“Did you tell them we were…?”  
  
Jared laughs.  
  
“Not in so many words, but I think they got the picture.”  
  
Jensen just sips his coffee, doesn’t react.  
  
“That blonde one in the corner? She asked if we had room for a third.”  
  
Jensen’s eyebrows shoot up over the rim of his cup.  
  
“She wasn’t serious.”  
  
“She definitely was, man. She totally wanted to be the meat in an us sandwich.”  
  
“Okay. Dude.” Jensen puts his cup down, waves his hands in front of his face. “Never say _us sandwich_ again. I’m close enough to puking already, come on.”  
  
Jared smirks and notes that Jensen is acting more like himself every day, and less like the zombie-fied version of himself that showed up on Jared’s doorstep a few weeks ago.  
  
They get back to the room, pull the blackout shades, strip down to their underwear, and crawl into blissfully clean, cool sheets.  
  
“After breakfast nap is like, the best invention ever,” Jared mumbles, yawning as he curls on his side.  
  
Jensen doesn’t say anything, just spoons up behind him and wraps an arm around his middle, and sighs. Jared slides his hand over Jen’s and smiles into his pillow.  
  
When he wakes up they’re in the same position, and he eases out from under Jensen’s arm, goes to pull the curtains back. It’s already looking dusky outside, short days this time of year, and he looks back at Jensen on the bed and thinks for the first time that it’s a new year, and he’s already got everything he wants. He takes a minute to say _good fucking riddance_ to the old one, because 2008 sucked ass.  
  
He starts up the water for a shower, lets it heat up while he crawls back onto the bed, bites at Jensen’s neck and ear until his eyes open.  
  
“I’m getting in the shower.”  
  
“Mmmkay.”  
  
“Big fuckin’ shower; you could come, too.” He nuzzles along Jensen’s jaw, kisses his chin, his cheek. “You know, if you wanted to.”  
  
He goes back to the bathroom, shucks his boxers and climbs in, but leaves the bathroom door open. He doesn’t know if Jensen will join him or not, but it’s his new approach, literally and metaphorically: just keep leaving the doors open, and when Jensen’s ready he’ll walk through them.  
  
When Jared turns around from rinsing shampoo out of his hair to see Jen propped in the doorway, watching him through the steamy glass of the walk-in shower, he thinks his new approach is fucking _genius_.

**= = = = =**

  
“I think about it, ya know.”  
  
Jensen’s breathing against the back of Jared’s shoulder, bodies lined up against each other in the dark. They had a nice dinner, they played some poker, and headed to bed early. Now three hours later, they’re actually going to sleep.  
  
“I know you do.”  
  
“You don’t even know what I’m talking about.”  
  
Jared snorts.  
  
“You give me _way_ too little credit for how well I know you, Ackles.”  
  
“So tell me, smart guy.”  
  
“I know you think about doing stuff we don’t do. I know you think about sucking my dick. I mean why wouldn’t you? It’s a great fuckin’ dick.”  
  
Jensen huffs a laugh, breath warm against Jared’s skin.  
  
“I was being serious.”  
  
“So was I.”   
  
He wants to turn over, wants to kiss Jensen stupid and tell him to stop worrying, that Jared is totally fine with things how they are and he knows they’re only gonna get better. But he thinks Jensen chose now, when it’s dark and Jared’s not even facing him, to bring this up. So he stays where he is, waits for Jensen to say whatever he needs to say.  
  
“I just want you to know, ya know? I don’t want you to think it’s some kinda fucked up thing where I expect you to do for me and I lay back and enjoy the ride. That’s not. I mean, that’s not how I want it to be. I don’t want to make everything so fuckin’ difficult, I really don’t.”  
  
Jared reaches back, runs his hand along Jensen’s thigh, pulls his leg up flush against Jared’s own. His fingers grip tight, and his voice is fierce.  
  
“I don’t think you understand, man. All I care about, all I want in the whole fucking world is _this_. You, here with me. That’s _all_. The rest is whatever, it’s gravy; it’ll happen when it happens. You got enough shit to worry about right now, okay? Don’t make this another thing, when it doesn’t need to be. I want to be something _good_ for you, Jen, not something else for you to feel bad about.”   
  
He feels Jensen’s eyelashes flutter along his skin, feels a hot kiss pressed against his shoulder blade.  
  
“You _are_ good for me. You’re the best thing I’ve got, man. Best thing, by far.”  


 

 

***** _Time will bring you down, and time will make you cold. I’ve turned my back  
some time ago, and now I’m going home_. *****

  
  
“He cleared out half the closet for me,” Jensen picks at his fingernail. “And put another dresser in the bedroom.”  
  
Elise just nods. Her pad’s sitting on the table as she’s sipping her tea; she doesn’t use it much anymore.  
  
“And is that a good thing or a bad thing? Or are we still undecided?”  
  
Jensen shrugs.  
  
“I’m glad he wants me there.”  
  
“But?”  
  
“He said there’s no rush, he just wants me to know I have the option. It’s this thing he has about leaving doors open and letting me walk through them when I’m ready. He has a whole philosophy.”  
  
Elise laughs. Jensen can’t remember if he’s ever heard her laugh before.  
  
“Sounds like he’s got dealing with you pretty well figured out.”  
  
Jensen just smirks at her, like _no shit_.  
  
“I don’t want to disappoint him. I’m afraid I’m gonna freak out and bail and fuck him up even worse than I did before.”  
  
“Are you feeling like you want to bail?”  
  
“No. God, _no_. I just. It’s fuckin’ scary, that’s all. I mean things are great how they are, but it’s like it’s not real life, yet, or something. If this is _it_ , if this is what we’re gonna do. Like, with our _lives_ , I mean. It can’t be just us, in a fuckin’ bubble.”  
  
“Is this what you _want_ to do with your life, Jensen?”  
  
“Yeah. “ He doesn’t hesitate, he knows the answer to that one as easy as if she’d asked _do you want a million dollars_? “But just because you want something doesn’t always mean it’s right. Or that it works out.”  
  
She knows everything about him by now – everything. She knows about the guy in college, about the serial womanizing that included suspiciously little in the way of actual sex. She knows about his sex life with Amy, and his sex life with Jared, in pretty embarrassing detail. She also knows all about the moral and religious arguments that he can’t just reason away, the ones he keeps coming back to that tell him this can’t be right, that he shouldn’t be doing this, no matter how much he wants to or how right it _feels_. And that’s before you even get to the guts-churning fear that claws through him at the idea of anyone he knows, God forbid his _family_ , knowing the truth about Jared. Elise knows it all, and Jensen trusts her pretty much implicitly at this point, has come to rely on her advice. This time her advice is simple.  
  
“Have you talked to Jared about how you’re feeling?” She looks at him pointedly. “Because if you want to give this thing between you a real chance, you’re gonna have to make an effort to learn to let him in.”

**= = = = =**

  
Jensen waits until they sit down to eat before he brings it up. He’s trying to learn to have the hard conversations face to face, in the daylight, not just in bed in the dark.  
  
“So I was talking to Elise about you. Again.”  
  
Jared smirks.  
  
“Anything in particular, or just about my general awesomeness?”  
  
“About me moving back in.”  
  
The smirk slides away and Jared’s face gets serious. He knows Jensen puts a lot of stock in what Elise says.  
  
“What did she think?”  
  
“She thought I should talk to you about my concerns.”  
  
“Whoa, hey,” Jared holds his hands up, “talking, _you_? I don’t know man, seems drastic.”  
  
Jensen rolls his eyes, takes a sip of his iced tea.  
  
“Apparently I have to learn to let you in. Or something.”  
  
Jared just smiles.  
  
“Sounds painful.”  
  
“And you’re making it so much easier.”  
  
Jared puts his fork down, looks Jensen in the eye.  
  
“Sorry. For real, I want you to talk to me if you have stuff on your mind. You know that, right?”  
  
“Yeah, I know.”  
  
“So?” Jared raises his eyebrows. “You have concerns?”  
  
“You could say that.”  
  
“Such as?”  
  
“Well, to start with it’s a little concerning that you don’t seem to have any.”  
  
“Who says I don’t have any?”  
  
“I just mean, I don’t know if it’s gonna be as great and easy as you think it’s gonna be. I’m not sure you’re thinking it all the way through, man. I mean there’s a big difference in being roommates and, ya know. _Living together_.”  
  
“Wait a second,” Jared shakes his head. “Do I think it will be great? Hell yes. Do I think it will be easy? Dude, I’m not stupid. Of course I don’t think it’s gonna be _easy_ , but that doesn’t mean we can’t do it. It definitely doesn’t mean we shouldn’t even fucking _try_. And if you ask me, living together is way better than being roommates, no question. I get to sleep in the same bed with you every night, for starters. That gets my vote, any day of the week.”  
  
Jensen can’t argue with that kind of logic, but he doesn’t know how to say what he really needs to say, doesn’t know how to ask what happens if they try, and fail. Luckily, or frighteningly, Jared seems to actually know Jensen as well as he likes to claim.  
  
“Look, I know, man, okay? I know you’re scared you’re not gonna be able to go the distance here, and I know all the reasons why. I knew what I was getting into, and I don’t know you if you noticed, but I didn’t exactly drag my feet about getting into it anyway.”  
  
“ _Exactly_.” Jensen shakes his head, rubs at the back of his hair. “It’s like you just think it’s all gonna work out and, I mean. What if it _doesn’t_ , Jay? What if I can’t do it? What if it comes down to it and I just. _Can’t_?”  
  
He closes his eyes, then looks at the ceiling fan, watches it spin. He breathes deep and tries to concentrate on saying what he means.  
  
“I’m just. I want to make this work, you know I do. But I’m afraid of what happens if I can’t. I’m so fucking scared of letting you down, man. Of fucking up your life, even more than I already have.”  
  
Jared listens intently, nods along, then levels his gaze at Jensen.  
  
“I know, man, I do. I don’t wanna let you down, either. But there are no guarantees in life, Jen. All we can do is try our hardest; go for what we want and fight to make it work.”  
  
He shrugs, shakes his head.  
  
“I don’t know about you, but if I’m gonna fuck it up, I don’t want it to be because I was too chicken shit to go all in.”  
  
Jensen drops his face into his hands. It’s annoying sometimes, how Jared always insists on making so much sense.  
  
Jared stands up to clear his plate, holds his arms out to Jensen.  
  
“Do we need to hug it out?”  
  
Jensen blows out a breath, manages a short laugh.  
  
“Guess it can’t hurt.”  
  
He stands up and Jared immediately wraps him up in a signature bear hug.  
  
“I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do,” he whispers, “I just don’t want you to be scared to do what you _do_ want to do. That’s all.”

**= = = = =**

  
The weekend after Jensen’s thirty-first birthday, he rents a UHaul and Jared drives to Round Rock with him to help him collect his stuff. He called Amy three times, asking her to call him back; she never did, so he finally just left a message saying he was coming this weekend. He texted her and emailed her too, just to be sure.  
  
Jensen hasn’t spoken more than a few absolutely necessary words to her in over three months; he’s not surprised to find the house empty when they get there.  
  
They pack up his closet, all his shoes and clothes, his couple of boxes worth of childhood soccer trophies and field day ribbons, birthday cards from relatives over the years and high school yearbooks, and the old guitar he learned to play on, the one his dad gave him for his thirteenth birthday.  
  
They haul all the furniture out of the guest room - the bed, dresser, mirror and night stand that used to be in Jensen’s old bedroom. Jensen carefully stacks everything from inside the dresser and nightstand, mostly extra bedding and wedding gifts they’ve never used, in the corner of the room. He takes the sheets and comforter and pillows that go with the bed, and a quilt his grandmother made; only things he owned before he married Amy. Everything else he leaves for her.  
  
The couch, the living room TV and the dining table and chairs all technically fall into the category of things Jensen owned before he was married, but he feels bad enough already without leaving Amy to come home to an empty house. Anyway, Jared already has all those things, Jensen doesn’t need them anymore, and he’d rather just make it as easy as possible. He packs up his books and cd’s, his coffee maker and his Tech Fiji coffee mug, his Texas Tennis water bottle and his Texas Tech Magnet off the fridge, and that’s it. The bookcase his parents gave them, the one that was in Jensen’s great-grandparents’ house when he was growing up, that’s the only other thing he really wants.   
  
It’s mostly full of his and Amy’s medical journals and Anatomy text books, a few photo albums, and some framed pictures. Jensen boxes up the books that are his, and leaves Amy’s stacked neatly against the wall. If he can’t remember, or he’s not absolutely sure, he puts it in Amy’s stack. He feels bad leaving the pictures in their pretty frames just lying on the ground, so he moves them to the mantle. Jensen only takes one, a family picture of him and his parents and his brother and sister, taken for the church directory when Jensen was in fourth grade. Amy loved it because of his bad bowl haircut and buck teeth. Jensen loves it because his big dumb grin reminds him how simple things were once. He also takes the photo album his mom made for them, full of Jensen’s family pictures.   
  
Then he just stands there for awhile, looking around helplessly.  
  
Jared’s been hanging back, only helping when requested or when there’s something heavy to carry, mostly staying out of the way. Jensen’s staring at the pictures on the mantle, frame after frame of shots from the wedding, when he sees Jared coming in the mirror over the fireplace.  
  
“Everything okay?” Jared shrugs like he knows it’s a dumb question, but what else do you say in a situation like this?  
  
“Yeah, just.” Jensen shrugs back, meets his eyes in the mirror. “You know it was almost a year ago exactly we had that party here for my birthday.”  
  
“Yep. Kinda crazy huh, what a difference a year makes and all that.”  
  
“You know.” Jensen looks down at a picture of him and his groomsmen, raises his hand to grip the gilt-edged frame. “When you guys were leaving that night, I realized. Man, I wanted to go with you. I wanted to do anything but stay here, honestly. And then you hugged me, and.”  
  
He stops and bites his lip, can’t raise his eyes even though he can feel Jared looking at him in the mirror. He knows if this were another place, another time, Jared would be behind him right now, arms around him, kissing him. But right now, in the house he shared with his wife, Jared keeps his distance, doesn’t even touch him. When Jensen finally looks up, Jared just nods.  
  
“How ‘bout we go home, yeah?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Jensen leaves the picture on the mantle, smiling faces of Jared and Vic and Martinez standing next to Jensen in their tuxedos, the vests in Amy’s favorite shade of baby blue.

**= = = = =**

  
Once they’ve carried all the boxes inside, carried in the furniture and set up the bed in Jared’s old room, put the bookcase in the back bedroom where Jared’s old college desk is, Jensen comes back from returning the UHaul to find Jared sprawled sweaty and exhausted on the couch. He’s been itching to touch all day, and now he can.  
  
He walks straight to the couch, straddles Jared’s lap and kisses him hard, hands on either side of his face.  
  
“Whoa,” Jared pants when they finally breathe, “I should help you move more often.”  
  
Jensen just smirks and slides off the couch, onto his knees, and pushes Jared’s thighs apart with his hands. He watches Jared’s eyes go wide.  
  
Jensen’s done this a few times by now, but not on his knees in broad daylight, in the middle of the living room. The thing is, right now, today, he’s too tired, too emotionally drained to think, much less over-think. Today, he just doesn’t give a fuck about bad and good, wrong and right. Today he just wants what he wants.   
  
He puts his face against Jared’s stomach, feels the damp and smells the sweat and salt of his t-shirt, and breathes deep. His fingers hook under the elastic of Jared’s basketball shorts and boxers.  
  
“Dude,” Jared’s voice comes out quiet, almost choked, “I need a shower.”  
  
“Good,” Jensen mumbles, nosing Jared’s t-shirt up and out of the way so he can lick at the smooth, salty skin underneath. The smell of him, the taste of him makes Jensen’s head swim, makes his dick hard, and he rubs his face into the crotch of Jared’s shorts.  
  
“Holy shit,” Jared pants, “ _seriously_?”  
  
Jensen just grins into Jared’s lap and yanks down on his shorts.  
  
Soon enough he’s got Jared’s come on his chin, dripping down his throat into the neck of his t-shirt, on his hand. Jensen stands up while Jared lays there gasping, heads for the stairs.  
  
“Wait!” Jared’s fingers snake around his wrist. “Where you going?”  
  
Jensen just grins.  
  
“Shower. I’m kinda filthy, don’t know if you noticed.”  
  
“I noticed,” Jared snorts, rolls his eyes. “But what about you?”  
  
“Save it for later,” he shrugs. “No big deal.”  
  
Jared’s hand lets go of his wrist, sneaks down to palm the front of his shorts.  
  
“I wouldn’t say that,” Jared grins, and gives Jensen’s still-hard cock a firm squeeze.  
  
Jensen whimpers and flinches backward out of Jared’s grasp, holds up his sticky hand.  
  
“Later, promise.”  
  
Jared’s still sprawled on the couch with his cock out while Jensen starts up the stairs.  
  
“Fine,” he calls after Jensen’s retreating back, “but no jerking off in there. And don’t think I won’t know!”  


 

 

***** _The eyes of Texas are upon you, all the live-long day_. *****

  
  
As soon as school’s out and Kelly’s free of her third graders for the summer, she and her friends head out on a seven-day cruise, just the girls.  
  
“Dude,” Chris says on the phone, “time to party like it’s 2003.”  
  
“Dude,” Jimbo says at the bar, “we see Chris more than you these days. What the fuck?”  
  
“Dude,” Jordan says at the second bar, “is it gonna be like when you lived with Ackles before, when you two just hung out together all the time and said screw you to the rest of us?”  
  
“Dude,” Scotty chimes in, “that’s kinda how it seems already.”  
  
Jared goes out with them every night that they ask that week, but he gets the picture.  
  
“Dude,” he tells Jensen, “I think we gotta socialize more.”  
  
Jensen looks alarmed.  
  
“What do you mean?” He looks at Jared like Jared is proposing something horrible.  
  
“I’m just saying, I think if we don’t leave the house more, or at least have people over here, said people are going to start getting their feelings hurt.”  
  
He doesn’t say people are also probably going to start getting suspicious, especially since Jared is now on record as being into dudes, but he lets Jensen draw his own conclusions on that one.  
  
“I’m saying pool party next weekend, what do you think?”  
  
Jensen doesn’t have to say it, Jared knows he’s thinking _all those people are going to fuck up the pH in the pool_ , but he nods his head, and Jared grins.  
  
“Good man.”

**= = = = =**

  
Jared drops his laptop at the foot of the stairs and calls for Jensen. He doesn’t get an answer; since the truck is in the driveway, Jared’s betting on the pool. Through the back doors, he can see Jensen in his black board shorts, laying in the same deck chair he always lays in out by the water. The steady rise and fall of his chest says that if he’s not asleep, he’s got to be damn close, and God, Jared’s been having fantasies that started just like this for fucking _years_ now. He’s struck suddenly by the realization that he doesn’t have to fantasize, not anymore. Jensen is here now, Jensen belongs to _him_.  
  
He takes the stairs two at a time, changes into his trunks and slips out the door, closes it behind him as quiet as he can. He’s careful not to let his shadow fall across Jen’s face as he approaches, stands beside the chair and just looks.   
  
Jensen has his aviators on, skin sunscreen-glossy and sweat-slick, shining in the late afternoon heat. He’s spent enough time by the pool already this year that he’s brown from the sun, fine hairs on his belly glinting gold where they run down into the top of his shorts. His lips are parted, arms flung up over the top of his chair. He looks like an offering, and Jared wants nothing more than to take him up on it. Jared steps deliberately into the space between the sun and Jensen’s face, watches Jen stir, licking his lips and shifting in his chair before he lowers his shades enough to look up at Jared over the top of them.  
  
“Were you going for creepy? Because, ya know…mission accomplished.”  
  
Jared just shakes his head and grins.  
  
“Not exactly what I was going for, no.”  
  
Jensen looks at him carefully, takes a minute to note the obvious tenting at the front of Jared’s shorts, and raises his eyebrows.  
  
“What brought all this on?”  
  
“If you have to ask that, you seriously underestimate how good you look laying there.”  
  
Jared’s expecting Jen to deflect, to make a joke or roll his eyes, but instead he meets Jared’s gaze, doesn’t flinch. His teeth dig in to his bottom lip for a minute before he responds.  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Fuck yeah.”  
  
“Not lookin’ too bad yourself, Padalecki.” Jensen’s still peering over the top of his shades, lets his eyes go slow and hot down over Jared’s chest, even lower, before he drags them back up to meet Jared’s.  
  
Jared grins, maybe even blushes, can’t help it. Jensen just doesn’t _say_ things like that, _they_ never say things like this, and it’s exhilarating, freeing in a way. He swings his leg over Jensen’s chair, lowers himself to sit across Jen’s thighs, and leans down. He sucks on Jensen’s sweaty, coconut-scented neck and breathes deep, high on the heat and the smell of Jensen and summer.  
  
“You know I used to watch you like this, before. Think about how hot your skin would be, how hot your fuckin’ dick would be under those black shorts, fuckin’ baking in the sun. Used to wish I could touch you like this, anytime I felt like it. Wanted to so bad.”  
  
The noise Jensen makes is part groan, part whimper - just a low, desperate grumbling sound, and his fingers clutch at the bare skin of Jared’s back.  
  
Jared’s got Jensen’s shorts yanked open, has himself laid out on top of Jensen in no time, sweaty skin sliding, and Jensen’s so hot it feels like he’s sizzling, the hard weight of his cock burning in Jared’s hand as he jerks it fast and ruthless, eyes glued to Jensen’s open lips and erratically fluttering eyelids.  
  
As soon as Jensen gasps and jerks, as soon as Jared feels the hot rush of sticky wetness over his fingers, he sits back and pulls his dick out, his strokes just on the wrong side of painful but he doesn’t give a shit; he’s watching Jensen watching him and thinking of all the times he imagined this, or something like it, and all the times he told himself it was never gonna happen.  
  
“Thought I’d never get to do this,” Jared grunts, voice strained and so fucking close to the edge. “So fuckin’ glad you came back, Jen. Don’t know what I woulda done.”  
  
Jensen’s eyes are glassy, a little wild. He makes another whimpering, grumbling noise and grabs a fistful of Jared’s hair, hauls him down for a bruising kiss. The pressure of Jensen’s firm belly, the heat of that blazing skin sliding against his cock is all it takes, and Jared’s done, rutting against that smooth heat, spurting in between them while Jensen’s tongue fucks his mouth.   
  
Jen’s hand loosens in Jared’s hair, eventually; the kisses turn slow and easy, Jared’s spent cock sliding through the mess he made on Jensen’s skin.  
  
If it was up to Jared he’d drag them both into the pool by way of cleaning up, but Jensen’s been working all week to get the pool looking perfect for the party tomorrow, and Jared knows better than to fuck with that. So instead he forces himself to his feet with a groan.  
  
“I’ll go get something to clean up with.”  
  
Jensen just grunts, but his hand reaches out, fingers close around Jared’s wrist.  
  
“I’m glad, too.”  
  
At Jared’s blank look, he shrugs.  
  
“I don’t know what I would’ve done either. You know, besides be fucking miserable.”  
  
Jared nods down at him, and he knows he’s beaming like an idiot but he can’t be bothered to give a fuck.

**= = = = =**

  
One pool party turns into two, then three, then suddenly it’s a standing invitation every Saturday. People show up, bring beer and booze and meat, the occasional bag of weed; they grill and drink and smoke, and play increasingly ridiculous pool games. Jared buys tiki torches and orange longhorn lights to string around the backyard. Jensen’s original response of _you’ll have to kill me first_ is modified, after much pleading, cajoling, and repeated blowjobs, to _fine, whatever_ , so the longhorn lights stay.  
  
“Man, how’d you talk him in to that?” Vic asks one afternoon, sitting in the shade with a very pregnant Lisa, both of them sipping bottled water.  
  
“I have my ways,” Jared smirks, and Jensen blushes and glares.  
  
It’s Saturday of the long July 4th weekend, everyone having unanimously decided to forego the annual trip to Willie’s 4th of July Picnic so Lisa can lay on a raft in the pool instead of sitting out in the miserable heat while her ankles swell, when Jimbo gets off work earlier than expected and stops by unannounced. He wanders out of the house in his work clothes, shirt and tie and long pants.  
  
“Ackles, where are all your clothes, dude?” He’s gesturing with the beer already in his hand. “I tried to jack a pair of shorts but your drawers are all empty.”  
  
Jensen gets the look on his face that he always gets when he’s flustered; he ends up just looking kind of pissed off and confused, and doesn’t say anything.  
  
“He hasn’t moved all his stuff back yet,” Jared breaks in. He didn’t even know Jimbo was here, much less that he was inside rooting around in their shit. Jared reminds himself that he needs to have a serious talk with their friends about boundaries.  
  
Of course Jimbo assumes that the downstairs bedroom, the one that used to be Vic’s, then Jared’s, the one that now has Jensen’s old furniture in it, is Jensen’s room. Jared says a little prayer of thanks that Jimbo didn’t venture upstairs.  
  
“I’ll find you something.” Jared pulls himself out of the pool and towels off as fast as he can, before Jimbo decides to continue his self-guided tour of their dresser drawers.  
  
“Dude I can’t wear your shorts. I might as well just wear my pants.”  
  
“No, I know,” Jared waves him off, yells over his shoulder as he hurries inside. “I said I’ll find something.”  
  
He’s upstairs digging in Jensen’s bottom drawer when he hears the stairs creak behind him, and god _dammit_ they’ve got to get a door for this fucking room. He grabs a pair of Jensen’s burnt orange athletic shorts, one of about 400 pair he has with the crossed tennis rackets in white on the leg, Texas Tennis emblazoned above them.  
  
“Here, these get mixed in with mine sometimes. Too many pairs of orange shorts, ya know?” He tries to keep his voice casual, but he can see Jimbo’s shrewd gaze already scanning the room. The two dressers, the bed with two stacks of pillows at the head and blankets tangled and crumpled at the foot, the shoes everywhere in two different sizes.  
  
The fucking picture of _Jensen’s family_ on the picture rail in _Jared’s_ bedroom.  
  
Jared watches Jimbo’s eyes get wide, and _fuuuuuck_.  
  
“Okay,” Jared holds his hands up, “just wait.”  
  
“No,” Jimbo’s shaking his head, “Dude, come on, _no way_!”  
  
“Just settle down,” Jared tries. “Don’t freak out.”  
  
He figures it’s a little late to tell him it’s not what it looks like. Especially since it’s exactly what it looks like.  
  
“Ackles?” Jimbo shakes his head. “Dude, I can’t even.”  
  
“Jimbo, listen, you can’t say anything okay? You _can’t_ , man.”  
  
“I can’t just.” Jimbo is shrugging, head shaking, eyes wide. “I can’t keep this a secret. You can’t make me keep this a secret! Dude, come _on_! I can’t be in charge of this information, no way. You know I don’t have a poker face, Jay, shit!”  
  
“No, man, seriously, you’ve got to. Jensen will fucking freak if he finds out you know.”  
  
“Nah, no way, fuck that. How am I supposed to look at him and act normal when I know this? Jay, you know me. I can’t do it, no way.”  
  
Jared thinks for a minute, imagines Jimbo staring at Jensen and stammering and acting like a dickwad, which he totally will. Jared sighs, quickly weighs Jimbo being an idiot versus Jensen possibly having a fucking meltdown.  
  
“Fucking. _Fuck_!” He runs his hands through his hair, tugs and twists some. “Fine. Just stay here. Don’t touch anything, and don’t fucking move.”  
  
At the door he yells for Jensen, watches as he hauls himself up out of the pool and dries off, shuffles in the back door.  
  
“What the hell?”  
  
He looks worried already. Jared guesses the look on his face probably isn’t helping.  
  
“Okay, listen. Jimbo came upstairs when I was looking for shorts for him.” He stops there, hopes that Jensen will infer without him actually having to say the words.  
  
“Yeah.” Jensen’s tone is flat, suspicious.  
  
“Dude, think about how that room looks, come on.”  
  
Jensen’s eyes close and he breathes deep and slow.  
  
“Shit,” he says without opening his eyes. “Motherfucker.”  
  
“I know, I know. I’m sorry, Jen,” Jared feels a little panicky, a little worried about what Jensen’s going to do.  
  
But Jensen just clenches his hands into fists, and opens his eyes.  
  
“He still up there?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Let’s go.”  
  
Jared swallows his shock and follows Jensen upstairs. Jimbo’s standing at the end of the bed, and for a few seconds they all stand there, looking at each other. Jared can’t take it for long, he has to say something.  
  
“Okay. So now you know,” he nods to Jimbo, “and now we know that you know.”  
  
“I have to tell Vic, okay? Just Vic.”  
  
Jared watches Jensen’s face turn pale under his summer tan, and shakes his head.  
  
“No, dude, come on. We don’t want anyone to know okay? Not now, just, _not yet_.”  
  
Jimbo actually has the decency to look pained.  
  
“I know Jay, I get it man, it’s just. Look.” He shoots a quick look at Jensen then lowers his head. “Look, they want to ask Ackles to be the Godfather of the kid and everything, and I just. Vic can be weird about shit you know? I just think he should know, I think I need to tell him. Now, before the baby.”  
  
Jared’s eyes go wide.  
  
“What, to give him a chance to decide Jensen’s, what? Suddenly some kind of pervert who can’t be allowed near children? That’s _fucked_ up man.”  
  
He could go on, but Jensen holds his hand up.  
  
“Jay, just stop.” Jensen sinks down on the end of the bed, puts his head in his hands. “He’s right. That’s a big decision, I mean. That’s their _kid_ , man. Jimbo’s right.”  
  
Jared thinks Jimbo and Vic can both go fuck themselves, but it seems he’s all alone on that side of the fence. He opens his mouth, but then thinks better of it, and closes it again.  
  
“Don’t worry about it,” Jensen says to no one, maybe to the floor. “I’ll take care of it.”

**= = = = =**

  
The dominoes just keep falling. Jared hates that it wasn’t a conscious choice they got to make, that they didn’t do it on their own terms; hates that their hand was forced by prying assholes with boundary issues, but Jensen seems to be handling it okay, all things considered.  
  
He told Vic on the 4th of July. Jared wasn’t in the room, but Vic and Lisa left soon after and Jensen won’t talk about it. Jared’s pretty sure they haven’t spoken since. Jensen says that based on Vic’s reaction to the Mark-and-Jared storyline, he’s not that surprised. Jared doesn’t ask what that means, is pretty sure he doesn’t really want to know. Jimbo says Vic is just a stubborn asshole and he’ll get over it, and Jared really hopes, for Jensen’s sake, that he’s right.  
  
Jared and Jensen agree that there’s no way their secret is safe for long, not with the Frazier boys and their fucking mouths. They’re under the microscope now, the clock’s ticking, so they get as pro-active as they can. They decide that’s better than the alternative anyway – one awkward afternoon of standing in their bedroom while a nosy friend slowly realizes what’s up with the sleeping arrangements was more than enough, thanks.  
  
Jared has lunch with Jordan, figures he’s already told him about one guy, another one shouldn’t be so hard. Jordan just shakes his head, says, _Ackles, man. Didn’t see that coming, but I totally should have_ , and goes back to drinking his beer. Jared buys him another one, just for being cool.  
  
Chris is Jared’s oldest friend, technically his best friend if you don’t count Jensen into the equation, which Jared isn’t sure if he should now, or not. Either way, Chris is a scary one, the one that Jared really, really doesn’t want to lose, so he chickens out and asks Kelly to come over one evening to help him with some made-up emergency with his clothes or his hair or something only Kelly would truly believe is an emergency. She sits at the table with him and Jensen while Jared stammers and stutters around for awhile, before Jensen finally rolls his eyes and blurts, _he’s trying to tell you we’re…together_. Kelly’s mouth opens and closes, then opens and closes again. Jared starts to make a smart comment about her looking like a fish, but decides now probably isn’t the time.   
  
Finally, she shakes her head like she’s not sure she heard right, closes her eyes and opens them again like maybe she’ll see something new and different about the two of them, sitting there across from her shoulder to shoulder.  
  
“You two.” She points from Jared to Jensen and back again. “You’re - you know.”  
  
“Sharing the upstairs bedroom. And yes, that means what you think it means.” Jared blows out a long breath, and waits.  
  
Kelly shakes her head slower, like she’s taking it in, then finally she nods instead.  
  
“Wow,” she says, slow and soft, almost reverent. “That’s like, whoa. That’s really. I mean, wow.”  
  
“Yeah.” Jared waits, tries to remember to breathe.  
  
Suddenly her face splits into a huge grin.  
  
“Oh my God,” she gasps, “you’re like totally in love, aren’t you?”  
  
Jared and Jensen stare uncomfortably at the table top, and Kelly squeals.  
  
“Y’all, seriously. That’s the cutest thing ever. “  
  
She shoves her chair back and rounds the table, flings herself between them with an arm around each of their necks.  
  
“I’m so happy for you both, honestly. Oh my _God_! This is so exciting!”  
  
Jared slowly unwinds her arm from his neck and clears his throat.  
  
“Thanks Kell, that’s really sweet, but. Um. I’m kinda worried about telling Chris.”  
  
“Oh, him,” she rolls her eyes. “I’ll handle him. Don’t sweat it.”  
  
Three hours later he gets a text from Chris, _so you’re in gay love with Ackles?????_ He texts back with _looks that way_ , and the immediate response is _felicitaciones, bro. word around here is it’s fuckin adorable_. Jared snorts, shows Jensen his phone, and watches as Jen exhales, watches as the pinched look leaves his face. Jared knows he was really worried, really scared that Chris wouldn’t take it well and Jared would be upset, so Jared hauls him in close and kisses him hard and dirty, just to say _thanks for having my back_.  
  
By the time the night of Jared’s previously-planned birthday party rolls around, everyone knows. There are a few no shows at the party Jared is pretty sure would have come otherwise, namely Vic and Lisa, but for the most part everyone comes and acts as normal as can be expected, considering the assholes they choose to keep as friends. There’s a lot of cat calling and lewd comments, Jensen’s face is the color of a tomato all night, and when Jared blows out the huge cloud of 27 candles on his giant cake, Jimbo and Chris are beating their cake forks against their tumblers full of whiskey and vodka and yelling _kiss, kiss, kiss_ like they think they’re at a wedding. Of course Jensen would rather cut his own arm off, no way that shit was gonna happen, but Jared still thought it was kind of sweet the way their friends booed and hissed in disappointment when Jensen stubbornly refused.


	9. Chapter 9

 

_*Who says I can’t be free from all of the things that I used to be?  
Re-write my history; who says I can’t be free?*_

  
  
Jensen’s lying on the couch watching the second game of a Red Sox-A’s double header, when he hears Jared come in out on the side porch. Jared comes through the living room on his way to the stairs, wet hair stuck to his forehead, the August heat enough to make you sweat just walking 20 yards from the car to the door. His lap top bag is slung across his chest, shirtsleeves rolled up; he runs a hand over Jensen’s head as he passes the couch.  
  
“You busy?”  
  
“Nah, be right up.”  
  
Jared grins, nods, takes the stairs two at a time, and Jensen fumbles around for the remote, feeling a hot little curl of excitement snake through him. It’s stupid, really, but this has become his favorite part of the day; he’s spent most of his summer watching meaningless regular season baseball, laying by the pool, and wandering the aisles of Wheatsville Co-op and Central Market looking for what he wants to cook for dinner. It’s not that he’s sitting around waiting for Jared to get home, but that doesn’t mean he’s not glad when Jared finally shows up.  
  
Jensen turns off the TV and follows Jared up the stairs. Jared’s stripping out of his boxers, falling onto the bed stark naked and Jensen follows suit, shucks his t-shirt and shorts and slides into the bed next to Jared. They come together easily these days, arms wrapping around, legs tangling, finding the right fit automatically, by instinct. Jared sighs against Jensen’s shoulder, broad palms and strong fingers tracing patterns over Jensen’s back.  
  
“Long day?” Jensen asks Jared’s neck.   
  
“You have no idea,” Jared mumbles. “Better now, though.”  
  
This isn’t a sex thing, not usually at least. Usually it’s just this - just the two of them lying like this together, skin on skin, breathing each others’ air. Sometimes they talk about their days, sometimes they don’t talk at all. Sometimes they make out a little, sometimes they even get worked up enough that it actually goes somewhere, but usually this is all it is. Jared comes home, and they lay around naked in bed for a little while before they get up, get dressed, and go figure out dinner. Jared swears it’s better than meditation, that Jensen’s skin has some kind of medicinal properties that melts his stress away and lowers his heart rate to _almost dead_. Jensen’s not sure about all that, but he does know that thirty minutes of Jared like this is about all it takes to make him feel totally calm and peaceful, and forget whatever it was he was worrying and strung out about. These days, he’s got less to worry about on some fronts, and more on others.   
  
At first Jensen thought it was maybe sort of weird that Jared just wanted to get naked and lay beside him in bed for a half an hour every day after work. But when he told Elise about it, to see if she thought it was weird too, she just smiled.  
  
“Taking time to make a physical and emotional connection like you’re talking about, to focus only on each other and leave everything else at the door, it’s important. Do you have any idea how many couples I work with who can’t even fathom the concept of something like that, have to be lead and coached to create some sort of ritual like that for themselves? And you seem to have figured it out on instinct.”  
  
Jensen just looks at her pointedly, and she holds up her hands.  
  
“Okay, _Jared_ seems to have figured it out on instinct. But you didn’t fight it; from what you’ve told me, you understand the benefit intuitively if perhaps not theoretically. I’d say that’s a very, very good sign. Not weird at all.”  
  
Jensen’s just starting to feel better when she smiles again. He should know by now when that smile is just a set up for a sucker punch.  
  
“I think it would be helpful to talk to the two of you together. I’d love to meet him, when you’re ready.”

**= = = = =**

  
“I can’t believe you’ve never done this before.”  
  
Jared’s standing with his back to the concrete rail of the bridge, shades pulled down against the setting sun.  
  
“Yeah, you’ve mentioned that. Like four hundred times.”  
  
Jensen’s standing next to him, shoulder to shoulder in the sweltering heat, sucking water from an Aquafina bottle.   
  
“Maybe because I have better sense than to be standing around in the sun when it’s a hundred degrees outside.”  
  
“Dude, seriously,” Jared nudges him with a shoulder and grins. “It’s totally worth it, just wait.”  
  
He props his arms up on either side of him, hands on the rail, so his forearm runs along Jensen’s sweaty back. Despite the heat, Jensen’s automatic reaction is to lean into the contact. It’s not like it’s obvious, looking at them, but it’s not like it’s particularly well disguised, either, Jensen knows, and he doesn’t even care. He wonders when that became normal, when he stopped wondering who was looking, stopped letting the fear of who might see and what they might think keep him from doing what feels natural when it comes to Jared.  
  
When the sun finally dips behind the trees, Jared flips his shades up and turns around. They jostle with the other onlookers for elbow room at the railing and lean over, watching and waiting. When the first column of bats flies out, the crowd _oohs_ and _aahs_ and Jensen has to admit, it’s pretty impressive. Ten minutes later the sky is filled with them, trailing off into the distance like squirming curls of black smoke, wave after wave flying out from under the bridge in neatly organized formation.  
  
Once the bats are all off chasing bugs for the evening, they head to Home Slice for dinner, hang out at the bar drinking Lone Star in cans and waiting for a table. Four beers each and an hour and a half later they’re finally crammed into a tiny table in the back, pepperoni and mushroom steaming on the stand in between them.  
  
“So it was cool, right?” Jared stuffs half a slice in his mouth at once, and keeps talking. “I mean bats, dude. What’s not cool about bats?”  
  
“It was pretty cool,” Jensen nods, picking at some overly-crispy pepperoni before he digs in. “I’m man enough to admit when I’m wrong.”  
  
Jared smiles, with the dimples and everything.  
  
“Stick with me, kid, you might learn something after all. Next stop: Barton Springs.”  
  
Jensen just rolls his eyes.  
  
“Oh, boy,” he deadpans, mouth full of pizza.  
  
Jared shakes his head sadly and does his best to look wounded.  
  
“See? Still you doubt me.”  
  
“I just don’t see what’s so great about a really cold swimming pool.”  
  
Jared tips his beer up, drains the last of it, lets out a belch then grins.  
  
“Don’t worry, grasshopper. You will.”

**= = = = =**

  
The door opens and Jared practically jumps out of his seat, all eager and smiling. Frankly, Jensen’s a little annoyed that he’s _so_ excited.  
  
A man and woman walk out, heads down. The woman looks like she’s been crying. Jensen feels a pang of sympathy as he watches the man’s hand graze her lower back, watches her flinch away as they leave. God, he remembers being right there, just like it was a week ago instead of a year ago.  
  
Suddenly Jared’s big dumb grin doesn’t seem so annoying.  
  
Jared and Elise _hug_ when Jensen introduces them, actually fucking hug, like long lost friends or something. Jensen’s never hugged Elise in his life, and he’s been seeing her for over a year now. He tries to remember the couple in the lobby, remember that Jared = good, even when Jared = obnoxiously overzealous puppy.  
  
“My goodness,” Elise steps back and looks up, and up some more. “I don’t think Jensen ever described you, physically. I really didn’t know what to expect.”  
  
Jared cuts a look at Jensen.  
  
“Dude, you couldn’t even _pretend_ to objectify me, at least a little? Come on, I’m insulted.”  
  
Jensen holds in a sigh and sits down in his usual spot right in the middle. Then he remembers, and has to scoot over to one side to make room for Jared on the couch. It’s weird, being back here, like déjà vu except now Jared’s next to him instead of Amy, and instead of overwhelming dread and twitchy, pervasive discomfort, all he feels is mild irritation. He figures that’s progress, at least.  
  
Elise wants to know if there’s anything Jared wants to discuss, and Jensen holds his breath.  
  
“I think he’s getting pretty good at talking to me about stuff. For the most part.” Jared shrugs. “I really just kind of wanted to meet you, I hear about you so much.”  
  
Elise tells Jared how great she thinks naked-after-work-time is, and how intuitive he seems when it comes to Jensen’s needs. Jensen wonders if maybe he could leave and they could continue with the mutual admiration society while he’s down in the car, or something.  
  
“What about you?” Elise asks Jared. “Do you feel like your needs are being met?”  
  
Suddenly Jensen’s paying rapt attention. Jared considers for a minute, and Jensen’s holding his breath again.  
  
“I think we’re a work in progress.” Jared nods his head thoughtfully. “We’re getting better all the time. And I’m definitely happy.” He makes a point to look at Jensen.  
  
“I’m like. Really, _really_ happy. It’s good.”  
  
Elise smiles, her understanding therapist smile.  
  
“Am I sensing a ‘but’ being left off the end of that sentence?”  
  
Jared looks decidedly _not_ at Jensen, and shrugs. Then Elise looks decidedly _at_ Jensen, and raises her eyebrows pointedly.  
  
“You can be honest, Jay. That’s kind of the point here.” Jensen elbows him a little, until Jared looks at him.  
  
“I guess.” Jared looks at Elise again, but his hand shifts on the couch between their thighs until the backs of his knuckles press against Jensen’s leg. He traces them back and forth over the soft cotton of Jensen’s cargo shorts before he continues.  
  
“I guess it’s like, when you want something so bad for so long, I don’t know if it’s just normal to start being scared of losing it, as soon as you get it. I don’t know, is that normal?”  
  
Elise nods encouragingly, just like she’s done to Jensen countless times before.  
  
“It’s perfectly normal, honey, but that doesn’t mean we can’t try to work through some of that fear. That’s why we’re here.” She smiles. “Are there specific things that worry you that we could talk about?”  
  
Jared’s quiet, and Jensen presses their knees together by way of encouragement, just a little reminder that he’s right here, and it’s okay. Jared looks down at where their knees touch, before he goes on.  
  
“Mainly it’s just one thing. Like, the whole secrecy thing.” He swallows and sneaks a quick look at Jensen before his eyes flit right back to Elise.  
  
“I mean our friends know about us now, but that was. I mean, it’s not like we had a choice. And it’s gone okay, for the most part, but I know Jensen has had a harder time than I have and. I just get worried that maybe that’s as far as it’s gonna go. I mean, that he’ll never want to tell anyone else and we’ll just never be able to be. Normal.”  
  
Elise nods.  
  
“Jensen?”  
  
Jensen swallows, and breathes, thinks _motherfucker_ , thinks _I’m not ready for this_. But Jared’s here and worried, brow all knitted down and lips pursed together, and Jensen suddenly wants to see that big dumb smile again more than anything.  
  
“Jay, I. I mean, _no_ , okay? I don’t _want_ to tell people. But only because the people I have left to tell. I mean friends are one thing but you know my family, man. It’s gonna be ugly. Brutal. And I just. No, I’m not like, _looking forward_ to it. But I didn’t know you were, ya know. Worrying about it.”  
  
“I totally get all that, you know I do.” Jared’s looking at him now instead of Elise, and Jensen feels a little better. “But you know, I mean, there’s my family too, and. I kinda feel like no one even considers that it’s not gonna be a fuckin’ walk in the park for me, either. I mean they aren’t exactly gonna see this coming.”  
  
By _no one_ Jensen knows Jared might as well have said _you_. And it’s true, he’s all caught up in his own drama with the divorce being finalized, the legal and financial implications of that, of placating his parents and avoiding even thinking about having to hit them with another shocker so soon on the heels of the divorce. A more shocking shocker, at that.  
  
“Sorry, I just. Of course it’s gonna be hard for you, too, and. I’m sorry that I’m so preoccupied with my own bullshit lately. I haven’t even thought, really, about. I mean, do you _want_ to tell your family?”  
  
Jared looks down and bites at his lip.  
  
“Yeah, I think I do.” He looks cautiously at Jensen. “Also? I might have already told Megan.”  
  
Jensen snorts and shoves him.  
  
“Jackass. When did you do that?”  
  
“Like, February?”  
  
“Dude!” Jensen’s actually blushing. “I’ve seen Megan like ten times since then.”  
  
“I know. She keeps a secret real good, huh?” The big dumb smile is back. “She was all ready to try and catch you on the rebound, too. She was kinda pissed that I beat her to it.”

**= = = = =**

  
Jared takes a Wednesday off from work just so they can go experience the wonder of the super-cold swimming pool without the weekend crowds. Jensen is still skeptical, but he’s waiting to hear on the new job with the men’s basketball team, so whatever it takes to occupy his time until he gets the call, he’ll do it.  
  
They drive to Zilker Park and wander around to get good and hot, then pay their admission fee and lay in the sun on the slippery rocks until they’re ready to brave the seventy degree water of the Springs. They splash around in the deep water until their lips turn blue, do tricks off the diving board and sneak looks at the girls laying out topless, like a couple of twelve year olds. Then Jared shoves him under, holds him there and kisses him in the crystal clear water, and honestly, Jensen can’t remember the last time he had this much fun.  
  
They’re sitting on the side, feet in the water, air-drying from the knees up; Jared reaches over, runs his fingers around the rim of Jensen’s ear. It’s not much, just a quick, small thing, but it makes Jensen shiver, makes the goose bumps rise on his arms. Jared smiles and scoots closer, so the warm, damp skin of his shoulder and thigh are pressed against Jensen’s, then he looks out at the water.  
  
“I told my mom and dad.”  
  
Jensen swallows down the panic that’s immediately clawing its way up his throat, and makes himself breathe.  
  
“I didn’t even. I mean, you never said.”  
  
“I know. I didn’t want to freak you out, but. Yeah. When I went for dinner Sunday.”  
  
“Fuck, dude. You could’ve mentioned it.”  
  
He’s scared to ask what he knows he should, scared _how’d they take it_ is going to come back to bite him in the ass.  
  
Jared shrugs.  
  
“Yeah. Sorry.”  
  
It’s quiet, just the two of them breathing in time, until finally Jensen breaks down.  
  
“So?”  
  
Jared shrugs again.  
  
“It was weird. They were, I dunno. Surprised, I think, would be putting it lightly.”  
  
“I bet.”  
  
“They weren’t mad or anything, or like. I don’t know, _disgusted_. Nothing like that. Just. Confused, I think. Like, I’m pretty sure they think _I’m_ just confused, and I’ll get over it or something.”  
  
Jensen would be lying if he didn’t admit, he’s thought as much before. If he looks at things honestly, there’s never been a woman he really, really wanted. And as much as the word _gay_ makes him squirm, he’s got a pretty good idea that it fits, by definition at least. But Jared…  
  
It seems like Jared could go either way, could find a nice girl and have a nice normal life. Could do what Jensen tried and failed so fucking miserably to do.  
  
Sometimes Jensen has to wonder why Jared’s _not_ doing that, why he’s putting up with Jensen instead.  
  
“Do you think maybe.” He clears his throat and tries to think of how best to say this. “Do you think it’s possible they might have a point?”  
  
Jared’s head turns on a swivel; the look he gives Jensen screams _are you fucking kidding me_?  
  
He gives a hard shove, and suddenly Jensen’s back in the water, the cold stealing his breath, water filling up his nose.  
  
“Dude!” he comes up sputtering, “what the fuck?”  
  
Jared just glares, unrepentant.  
  
“It’s your own fault for being a fucking idiot.”  


 

 

***** _My body’s here, but my soul’s in San Antone_. *****

  
  
Jensen seems to be doing okay until they hit the South side of New Braunfels. Then Jared notices his knuckles getting whiter on the side of the passenger seat closest to the gear shift. Jared slaps at his hand, rubs it a little.  
  
“Doing alright?”  
  
Jensen doesn’t even look at him.  
  
“Yeah.” His voice is a low monotone. “Fine.”  
  
So, _that_ was convincing. He leaves his hand on top of Jensen’s for the rest of the drive.  
  
Jared’s actually been looking forward to this, in a weird way. Thanksgiving with his family and Jensen, all his favorite people together for his second-favorite holiday. It’s pretty much a win-win as far as Jared’s concerned, but he knows Jensen only agreed under duress. Now that Jensen’s working with the basketball team, the season is just getting under way in earnest, and the team didn’t even get Thanksgiving off. They worked out early this morning, and have to workout again tomorrow afternoon; it was enough of an excuse for Jensen to get out of going up to Dallas, but not enough of an excuse to get out of going to San Antonio with Jared.  
  
No matter what Jensen thinks, Jared knows it will be okay. It’s been months now since he told his parents about them, months of talking about it and explaining to them that it’s really not some sudden thing he just decided to try one day. He and his mom went to dinner and a movie one night, had a few margaritas, and he spilled the whole story. He told her that even before Jensen, there were other guys. That even when he was with Gabby, even when Jensen was with Amy, it was still always there in the back of his mind, something he was always thinking about. He’s not sure how much of that his mom told his dad, all he knows is everyone seems to be on board now, no more questions about whether or not he’s _sure about all this_ , no more awkward silence or forced casualness when Jensen’s name comes up.  
  
Jeff was a little different story. He said he was fine, said it was no big deal and he was glad Jared’s happy, but they haven’t talked as much since, and Jared is pretty sure it’s been weird, is pretty sure that he’s not just imagining it.  
  
Still, even with that. He _knows_ it will be fine.  
  
His family loves Jensen, always has, and Jared knows it’s just going to take a little while to get over the elephant in the room, and then things will be great, they’ll be totally normal. Of course, convincing Jensen of that is still a work in progress.  
  
“You know they like you. They’re okay with all this, trust me. You don’t have to look like you’re about to walk the plank.” Jared shuts the engine off in his parents’ drive way and turns to Jensen.  
  
“ _Liked_ me, you mean. Before I turned their son into a homo.”  
  
Jared snorts. He just realized there’s a pretty good chance Jensen actually thinks that’s what happened.  
  
“You know I messed around with guys before I even met you, right?”  
  
Jensen looks at him suspiciously.  
  
“Liar.”  
  
“Dude, I know your masculine charms are irresistible and all, but yeah. Not enough to turn me all by themselves, sorry. I had a little head start.”  
  
“Do they know that?” He nods toward the house.  
  
“Yep.”  
  
“Is it weird that that actually makes me feel better?”  
  
“Maybe if you were someone else it would be.” Jared grins, slaps his hand down on Jensen’s thigh and squeezes. “You ready?”  
  
“Check back in a couple of years.”  
  
“Pussy.” Jared leans over and nuzzles against Jensen’s throat, drags his tongue up along Jensen’s jaw and sucks at his ear.  
  
“Okay,” Jensen flinches away, lunges for the door. “You win.”  
  
He’s out of the car in three seconds flat.  
  
Jared just laughs.  
  
“That’s what I thought.”

**= = = = =**

  
They weren’t going to stay; Jensen felt weird and Jared agreed it might be uncomfortable to broach the whole sleeping arrangements thing on the first visit home. But now it’s past midnight and they’re both drunk, sitting in the den with Megan and Jeff, playing cards and drinking beer while Allison and the baby sleep on the couch. It’s getting less and less likely that anyone’s sobering up enough to drive home, and Jared’s parents are already in bed anyway, so it’s not like there’ll be any awkward conversations about shared bedrooms.  
  
Dinner was fine, a little stilted at first, but then the wine and conversation started flowing and it was smooth sailing after that.  
  
They broke out the beer during the Cowboys’ embarrassing loss to the Raiders, and the cards right after that. They watched the ‘Horns kick A &M’s ass, always the sign of a good Thanksgiving, then played Texas Hold ‘Em with the Bulls losing by twenty to the Jazz in the background. Jeff grumbled and cursed at the TV the whole time, his childhood allegiance to Michael Jordan’s team still not fully dissipated.  
  
“God, Noah,” he slammed his beer down on the game table after a particularly bad shot, “stop whining like a bitch and _do_ something, you fucking cocksucker!”  
  
Then he turned to Jared, eyes wide and drunk and earnest.  
  
“Whoa, _dude_. I guess that’s not really cool to say anymore, huh?”  
  
Jensen laughed so hard Jared thought they might have to call 911, so he thinks Jen’s probably over his fear of sleeping here by now.  
  
Jeff finally wakes Allison and takes her and the kid up to bed around one in the morning. They finish their beer and watch an episode of _NCIS_ with Megan before they sneak upstairs to Jared’s old bedroom.  
  
“Please remember whose room is right on the other side of your headboard!” Megan singsongs after them, and Jared knows Jensen is really drunk when all he does is snicker.  
  
Jared’s family are not small people; Jensen is the second shortest person in the place, narrowly edging out Jared’s mom. There are no single beds to be found in the Padalecki house - even Jared’s “childhood” bed was a Queen. When they strip down to their underwear and climb in there’s plenty of room to spread out, but they still spoon together just like they do at home, Jensen pliant and warm in Jared’s arms. Jared smiles against the back of Jensen’s hair and thinks he can’t fucking believe it’s been almost a year already since Jensen showed up at his front door with a fucking duffel bag, wonders if Jensen even remembers that they have an anniversary, at least of sorts, coming up in a few days. He runs his fingers over the smooth skin of Jensen’s middle, feels Jen’s hand come over his, fingers tangling together as Jensen burrows back into the heat of Jared’s body, and Jared thinks it doesn’t really matter either way.

**= = = = =**

  
Jared wakes up to timid knocking at the door.  
  
“Yeah?” He barely thinks before he responds. His mom’s head peeks around at him, and he’s suddenly acutely aware of Jensen pressed up against him, their bare torsos and his arm flung across Jensen’s waist. For all his mom knows they could be _naked_ under the covers or something, and suddenly Jared’s blushing through his sleep haze.  
  
“Just wanted to tell you breakfast is ready,” she whispers; Jensen hasn’t even stirred.   
  
Jared just nods, swallows thickly.  
  
“Kay.”  
  
She starts to close the door, then stops, and beams her proud mama smile at him.  
  
“I’m glad you stayed, baby. Both of you.”  
  
If Jared wouldn’t have to climb over Jensen to do it, he’d go hug her. But instead he just smiles his biggest, dimple-y-est smile at her.  
  
“Thanks, Mom. I’m glad too.”  
  
Breakfast is different than dinner, less formal, more like regular life. Everybody’s in their pajamas, scooting around each other to get things out of the fridge or grab plates or cutlery out of cabinets and drawers. Jared just put his undershirt on and came down in his boxers – it’s his _family_ , after all – so Jensen’s the only one fully dressed, standing in the corner of the kitchen like he’s trying to stay out of the way.  
  
There are scrambled eggs and sausage on the stove, biscuits in a pan on the counter, butter and jelly and salt and pepper and Tabasco lined up beside them. There’s milk and orange juice sitting out next to the stack of plates, and a fresh pot of coffee still gurgling in the coffee maker. Jared notices Jensen eyeing it wistfully around the same time his dad does.  
  
“Jensen,” Gerry claps him on the back, “you can’t bother being polite with this bunch, son. If you want your coffee you better jump in and get it before it’s gone.”  
  
“Yeah,” Jensen nods, like he’s deciding. “I guess I better just…” He gestures toward the coffee, and steps in that direction. Jared pulls a mug out of the cabinet, hands it over.  
  
“Sugar’s right there.” He points at the row of ceramic canisters in the corner of the counter, each one carefully and clearly labeled.  
  
“I’m sure he could never have figured that out, Jare.” Megan rolls her eyes and holds her mug out to Jensen. “While you’re at it, hit me with some of that.”  
  
Jeff and Allison and Jared line up behind her, and once Jensen’s poured coffee for everyone and sugared his own, they crowd in around the kitchen table. Jensen’s not really a breakfast eater, just coffee usually does it for him, but he steals a biscuit off Jared’s plate while Jeff and Allison regale everyone with a play-by-play of the baby’s sleeping patterns last night. Everything feels light and comfortable and easy, and Jared has everyone he loves most right here with him. He watches his mom and dad exchanging sections of the paper like they’ve done every morning of his whole life, watches his brother trying to feed eggs to his baby nephew, watches his sister and his sister-in-law laughing, watches Jensen sipping his coffee blissfully with no sign of that hard, bunched line to his shoulder that he had most of the day yesterday, and Jared thinks this is exactly how life is supposed to be.  


 

 

***** _I’ve lived without bread and I’ve lived without water,  
stuck outside, middle of the desert, wishing I was home_. *****

  
  
The Monday after Thanksgiving, Jensen comes home late from practice. Jared is in his boxers in their bed, working on his laptop. Jensen smirks at him from the top of the stairs.  
  
“Practice run late?” Jared barely looks up from the computer.  
  
“Not exactly. I had to run an errand.”  
  
He tosses a greasy bag onto the bed.  
  
“What the hell?”  
  
“It’s a double cheeseburger, with everything on it. From Bastrop.”  
  
Jared just looks at him.  
  
“Technically it’s a day late,” he shrugs “but I thought with the game at Rice yesterday and everything, you might give me a pass.”  
  
“You drove to Bastrop after practice.” Jared sets his computer down on the floor and gets up on his knees on the bed, reaches for the bag. “To get me this cheeseburger.”  
  
Jensen just shrugs again.  
  
“Come here.”  
  
Jensen shakes his head, grins.  
  
“Eat your burger, I’m gonna shower.”  
  
Jared shakes his right back.  
  
“I said come here.”  
  
“Kinda bossy.”  
  
“Only way to deal with you, Ackles.”  
  
Jensen steps closer and Jared grabs him, hauls him onto the bed. Jared’s big hands cradle his face like it’s something precious.  
  
“I didn’t think you’d remember.”  
  
“Like I could forget, Jay.”  
  
Jared kisses him, long and soft, and looks him in the eye.  
  
“I love you. And I mean _a lot_. Just so we’re clear.”  
  
They’ve never said it, not like that, not in so many words, and Jensen feels his throat get tight, feels an odd pressure behind his eyes. He nods.  
  
“I know.” He shakes his head, tries to make it come out right. “I mean, yeah. Me too.”  
  
Jared flops back on the bed and cackles.  
  
“That’s weak, dude.”  
  
“Hey!” Jensen grins, rolls down on top of Jared. “I brought you a cheeseburger, what do you want?”  
  
“You’re lucky I _really_ like cheeseburgers. But for our second anniversary, you’re gonna have to man up.”

**= = = = =**

  
This wasn’t something Jensen planned. Now that he’s in the middle of it, he’s thinking a plan would have been good.  
  
His whole family came out to the new Cowboys Stadium to watch the big showdown between Texas and North Carolina. Jensen was kind of proud that he could get them all tickets, their first look at the new Stadium and a major college basketball match-up, and right across town from them, to boot. Jared drove up for the day with Jimbo and Chris and Kelly, and Texas won. Everybody went for dinner afterward, everybody was in a good mood. Six days before Christmas, with the carols playing in Spanish at the restaurant and the lights twinkling everywhere, and _motherfucker_ Jensen suddenly can’t remember what possessed him.  
  
Actually, he can.  
  
His mom’s been trying for months now, telling him about her friend’s daughter who lives in Georgetown, also recently divorced, how she’s such a nice girl and wouldn’t it be lovely for them to meet sometime, lovely if they happened to hit it off. And Jensen’s getting sick of telling her, over and over again, that he’s not interested.  
  
So when she slips him the fucking girl’s number after she hugs him goodbye in the parking lot of Pappasito's, he doesn’t really think, he just blurts it out.  
  
“I’m actually seeing someone, Mom.”  
  
He knows right then, there’s no going back. Jared and their friends are waiting in the car to take him back to their hotel. His brother and sister-in-law have already packed the kids up in the back of their Expedition, are pulling out of the parking lot. Mackenzie and her boyfriend Will are sitting in the back seat of his parents’ Camry, and his dad is already opening the driver’s door. This is not the time, not even fucking close, but now he’s started it, and there’s no going back.  
  
“Well honey, that’s a good thing! Why didn’t you just say so?” She smiles. “How long has this been going on?”  
  
“Awhile. It’s sort of. Complicated.”  
  
She narrows her eyes, immediately suspicious.  
  
“I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean, Jensen.”  
  
He doesn’t know what to do. He can’t have this conversation in a parking lot, but he can’t _not_ have it, not now, not any more.  
  
“Look, I’m sorry. I really need to talk to you guys, just. Not right here, maybe…could you come back to the hotel for a little while?”  
  
“It’s getting awfully late sweetie.”  
  
It’s nine-thirty on a Saturday night, and Jensen has to fight to keep from rolling his eyes.  
  
“It’s kind of important, Mom.”  
  
When he climbs into the passenger seat of the Escalade, he’s sweating, hands shaking. Jared takes one look at him and his eyes go wide.  
  
“What?” He asks it quietly, just for Jensen, not for the peanut gallery in the back seat.  
  
Jensen stares out the front window.  
  
“They’re coming back to the hotel for awhile, so I can talk to them.”  
  
“You mean _talk to them_ , talk to them?”  
  
Jensen nods, keeps facing forward.  
  
“What prompted that?”  
  
“General stupidity.”  
  
Jared takes Mack and Will with all of them down to the bar, and Jensen takes his parents up to his room. He worries for a minute about whether or not any of Jared’s stuff is laying around visible, then thinks it won’t much matter soon enough, anyway.  
  
He doesn’t have the first fucking clue how you break something like this gently, so he doesn’t bother trying, just blurts it out and tries to focus on the wall between their heads so he doesn’t have to watch the expressions on their faces.  
  
His mom is the first to speak.  
  
“I don’t understand, Jensen. What you’re saying just doesn’t make any sense.”  
  
“I know it probably seems that way, Mom, and. I’m sorry that it’s coming as such a surprise to you. It was sort of a surprise to me, to be honest. But this is. I mean, this is the way I am. It’s the way I’ve always been, it just took me a long time to figure it out.”  
  
His dad clears his throat.  
  
“Son, we understand that Jared is your friend. He’s been a good friend to you, and you’re going through a hard time-.”  
  
Jensen holds up a hand, stops him right there.  
  
“Dad, trust me. If you think I’m confused, or something. You’re just going to have to believe me when I tell you, I know the difference in good friends and what Jared is to me.”  
  
“Then what was Amy to you, I’d like to know?” His mom’s voice has gone from confused and worried to hard, edgy. He swallows thickly.  
  
“Amy was. I tried, mom. I really tried, I did. To love her, to be what I should have been for her. I tried to live that life and I was miserable. I was making _her_ miserable. The truth is I had no business marrying her in the first place; I never really wanted to, I was just doing what I thought I should. I was trying to be something I’m not.”  
  
“Maybe she just wasn’t the right girl for you,” his mom tries again, but Jensen just shakes his head.  
  
“Do you really think it’s fair for me to do the same thing to some other girl all over again, Mom? Screw up someone else just like I did Amy, waste somebody else’s time, ruin somebody else’s life while I keep lying to myself, pretending I don’t know better?”  
  
There’s a long, long silence after that. Jensen stares at the floor, listens to his mother cry and figures this is going just about as well as he thought it would.

**= = = = =**

  
“Just like that,” Jared’s panting, heels digging into Jensen’s ass, blunt nails scraping along his back. “Just like that, _fuck_ , like that, like that.”  
  
Jensen tries to concentrate on doing it _just like that_ , just like Jared needs it; tries not to let his thrusts get all erratic, but he’s at that place he always gets to right about now, where it’s getting hard to concentrate on anything but the sweet hot pull of Jared’s body around him and the way it’s everything Jensen’s been looking for all his life, everything he always needed and just never knew it. He has the presence of mind to reach between them and wrap his fingers around Jared’s cock, squeeze and tug just enough until Jensen feels what he’s been waiting for. The tight hot pressure around him gets tighter, hotter; he feels Jared’s cock spill over his fist, feels the rumble of Jared’s strangled groan vibrate along his skin, and that’s all it takes, he’s done for.  
  
When he can breathe again, when he tries to roll away, Jared just tightens his thighs around Jensen’s middle and hangs on tight.  
  
“Not yet,” he pants, rolling his hips up, pushing against Jensen in a slow, lazy rhythm. “Just stay.”  
  
Jensen sucks at his sweaty neck, smiles against his skin.  
  
“Keep doing that and we’re gonna have to start all over.”  
  
Jared just _hmmms_ , keeps his eyes closed, keeps on doing what he’s doing, slow and easy, until it’s making Jensen crazy. Until Jensen has no choice but to lift himself up on his exhausted, wet noodle arms and put his back into it, slide deeper and harder into Jared until they’re both groaning and panting and coming again.  
  
They make it to the shower on shaky legs, leaning into each other under the hot spray, Jared’s soapy fingers sliding and tugging, thumbing at Jensen’s sore cock until he wants to cry.  
  
“Two can play that game, you know.”   
  
Jensen leans his forehead against the warm, solid weight of Jared’s chest, reaches around with his own slick fingers and finds what he’s looking for, pressing purposefully against the swollen opening until the first two fingers of each hand are sliding inside, until Jared is hissing and jerking against him, biting hard at his ear.  
  
“ _Fuck_ , that’s-”  
  
“Too much?’ Jensen whispers. “Not enough?”  
  
“Both.” Jared groans, squeezes harder around Jensen’s cock.  
  
Jensen just nods and groans in agreement, sucks at Jared’s wet skin, at his mouth and his tongue, until the water runs so cold they’re shivering.  
  
Back under the covers, still naked and warm again, Jared spoons up behind him, kisses his neck and shoulder while he wraps his hand around Jensen’s spent cock again. He doesn’t tighten his grip, doesn’t move his hand, just keeps his fingers circled loosely and sighs against Jensen’s skin.  
  
“What is it with you and my dick tonight?”  
  
He can feel Jared’s smile in the dark.  
  
“Just reminding you who it belongs to.”  
  
“Possessive much?”  
  
“Fuckin’ right.”  
  
Jensen snorts _pervert_ , but he slides his fingers over Jared’s, burrows back into the reassuring heat of the body behind him.  
  
Tomorrow, for the first time in his entire life, Jensen won’t wake up on Christmas morning at his parents’ house. He won’t stumble bleary-eyed down the hall to drink coffee and open presents by the twinkling light of a Christmas tree decked with the ornaments he and his brother and sister made in elementary school. He won’t sit on the floor, on the rug he crawled across as a baby, under the mantle packed with pictures that are a slideshow of his life and watch his family laughing and talking, holding up their gifts for each other to see.  
  
It’s not that he was asked not to come, he wasn’t disowned or kicked out or anything that dramatic. But the daily conversations he’s had with his parents for the last almost-week have consisted mostly of their arguments against his new _lifestyle_ , their pleading with him to reconsider his choices, and his continued attempts to explain that trying to be something he can never be is a pointless, soul-killing endeavor. That it’s really not something that’s up for debate, it’s just something that _is_.  
  
They don’t believe that, of course, but he’d known that they wouldn’t. They’re praying for him, which Jensen supposes he appreciates, but he’d appreciate it more if he thought they were praying for him to be happy, to be at peace, to be loved, instead of for him to be _fixed_.  
  
For right now, for tonight, it’s enough for Jensen to know that in the morning he and Jared will wake up exhausted and sore and fucking crazy in love. They’ll open presents in front of their own Christmas tree, wrapped with popcorn Jared popped himself and ate more of than he strung, and hung with cheapo ornaments they argued over for more than an hour at Big Lots as if it were a matter of life or death. They’ll make better coffee than his parents have ever dreamed of making, and probably have sex again before they drive to San Antonio, where things might not be perfect, might not be everything Jensen wishes his Christmas could be, but where they’ll be welcomed with open arms and without condition.   
  
Where people will just be happy that they’re happy, and glad for them that they have each other.  


 

 

***** _I remember your kiss like TNT, how it rattled every long gone part of me,  
and in the heat of the night you shook when you said my name_. *****

  
  
In January, Jared talks Jensen out of selling the house.   
  
The divorce was expensive, and now that it’s finalized Jensen’s got legal bills to pay off; even with his swanky new job with the swanky new paycheck, he could use the money he would have made off the house.  
  
But Jared loves this house, for both practical and sentimental reasons, and he’s not willing to give up on it that easily. Instead he draws up a proposal, which he’s shocked Jensen actually goes for, and they refinance the house in both of their names. He was all prepared to argue and cajole and beg, but turns out that’s not even necessary; Jensen just listens, thinks about it overnight, then says _let’s do it_. So Jared buys out half the equity and Jensen gets a check almost big enough to pay off his divorce lawyer, and everybody’s happy.  
  
As soon as his name’s on the mortgage, Jared starts making plans.  
  
Or more accurately, he starts taking action on the plans he’s had for awhile now.  
  
Since Jensen is pretty much the fucking inspiration for the expression _it’s easier to ask forgiveness than permission_ , Jared doesn’t bother to mention said plans. He just waits until Jensen’s on a road trip one weekend, and rips out all the tile, the sink, and the toilet in the downstairs bathroom. The fight that ensues when Jensen sees what he’s done is fucking epic, but Jared kind of relishes it, except maybe the part where Jensen pouts and sleeps downstairs in his old bed for two days. But fighting is what couples do sometimes, _real_ , in-it-for-the-long-haul couples, so Jared refuses to see this as a bad thing. He also refuses to see a new bathroom as a bad thing, and Jensen will come around, he has no doubts about that.  
  
Jensen steers clear of the bathroom situation altogether until he comes home from a game the day before Valentine’s Day to find Jared staring at two different tiles, holding one, then the other up against the bathroom wall.  
  
The ‘Horns were beating Nebraska by almost thirty at the half, so Jared left early to come home and get back to work.  
  
“What was the final damage?”  
  
“Forty.”  
  
“Sounds riveting, man.”  
  
“Seriously. If I thought I could have snuck out without anyone noticing, I totally would have.”  
  
“I ordered you Shrimp Pad Thai from Madam Mam’s, if you want it.” Jared’s still staring intently at the tiles.  
  
Jared knows they always feed the whole cast and crew after games, but he also knows Jensen doesn’t always want to take the time to eat. Sometimes he just wants to get finished and get home.  
  
Suddenly Jensen’s wrapping his arms around Jared from behind.  
  
“I like the one on the left; it matches what we’ve got upstairs.”  
  
Jared nods, all business.  
  
“That’s called subway tile.”  
  
“Okay, well I like the subway tile.”  
  
“Subway tile it is, then. I’ll go to Home Depot in the morning.”  
  
“I’ll go with you.”  
  
Jared turns around, eyebrow raised.  
  
“You’re dangerously close to getting _involved_ in this project that you threw the fuckin’ bitch fit about, you realize that right?”  
  
Jensen just shrugs.  
  
“Happy Valentine’s Day. Don’t expect a present.”

**= = = = =**

  
It’s smack in the middle of conference play, the busiest time of year for Jensen, so it’s not like he has a lot of free time. Still, with him helping when he can, they finish the bathroom ahead of Jared’s schedule. They work almost every night and weekend until they’re sore and dirty, they fuck in the shower and fall into bed exhausted. Jared loves every minute of it, and for all Jensen’s bitching and complaining, Jared knows he does too. Not to mention, it’s totally worth it because it looks fucking _awesome_ when they’re done.   
  
They put in all new tile, new floor, new sink and new toilet. They re-did the plumbing and raised the shower head high enough that Tim Duncan – or, at Jensen’s insistence, Dirk Nowitzki – could shower comfortably, and had the tub resurfaced. Not bad for a couple of weeks, a couple thousand dollars, and a couple of guys who don’t really know what they’re doing, Jared thinks.  
  
“So what’s next?” Jensen’s drinking a beer, watching Jared demonstrate the new six-setting shower head, the new quiet-flush toilet, the new no-fog mirror on the medicine cabinet.  
  
Jared tries to look innocent, but Jensen just rolls his eyes.  
  
“Dude, don’t even. I know you’ve got something planned. Just spill it.”  
  
“Well.” Jared tries to formulate his thoughts quickly. This is a big one. A fuckin’ _sweet_ idea, but still, a big one, and he wasn’t planning on springing it on Jensen so soon. But since he asked, and all.  
  
“Last summer when I was cleaning out the chimney? I mean dude, you can totally see downtown from up there.”  
  
Jensen sucks on his beer.  
  
“Uh huh.”  
  
“I was just thinking. Rooftop deck, right? Awesome views, great place to chill with a beer.”  
  
“Great place to jump from, into the pool, break your neck.”  
  
Jared shrugs.  
  
“It might have crossed my mind. I mean, minus the broken neck.”  
  
Jensen takes another swig, nods slowly like he’s considering.  
  
“I’m sure there are permits and shit you have to get for something like that, dude. I don’t think you can just build a platform on the top of your house and not, like, check with anyone first.”  
  
Jared rolls his eyes.  
  
“No shit. I mean I’ll have to do some research.” He doesn’t think now’s the time to mention that the research is actually already done.  
  
“But I was thinking we open up the back wall of the bedroom while we’re at it, put some double doors in and deck up there too, so it’s like three levels kinda, you know, with stairs all the way up from the back yard?”  
  
Jensen looks at Jared suspiciously.  
  
“We’ll have to move out of the bedroom to do that.”  
  
“I guess, yeah.”  
  
“And this fancy new bathroom will sure make it easier to convince me to move downstairs.”  
  
Jared has the decency to look at least mildly guilty.  
  
“Will it? I hadn’t thought about it.”  
  
“My ass you haven’t. Sneaky fucking bitch.”  
  
Jared just grins.  
  
“I’ll take that as a yes.”

**= = = = =**

  
“Let’s go back now,” Jensen is slurring against Jared’s neck, grinning up at him. “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go.”  
  
The bass is pounding in Jared’s ears, so loud Jensen’s pleading is barely audible, people crushed around them on all sides.  
  
“Okay, we just have to tell someone we’re going, okay?”  
  
Jensen is drunkenly and unabashedly making out with Jared’s ear, wrapped around him tight while Jared’s looking for someone, anyone, that he recognizes in the crowd.  
  
“Want you to fuck me, Jay. Come on, come on.”  
  
And whoa, okay, that is _not_ something that happens, at least not yet. Which Jared is fine with, but honestly, he could do without the suggestion when he’s fucking horny and Jensen is drunk enough that Jared has to say no, on principle.  
  
“Just wait here, okay?” He props Jensen against the bar and untangles himself from Jensen’s grasp. “ _Don’t move_. Understand? Don’t move, I’ll be right back.”  
  
It’s the opening weekend of the NCAA Tournament, and Texas played in New Orleans; obviously, that combination means everyone they know or have ever known, including Vic and Lisa, are here. Jared thought it was a little convenient that Vic wanted to kiss and make up, so to speak, right around the time that Jensen could get him Tourney tickets for free, but he guesses whatever works. Everything’s been fine, everyone’s been cool, and honestly it’s nice to have everyone together again, even if right now _together_ is sort of relative. Everyone’s in this bar, somewhere, but Texas just lost to Wake Forest in overtime earlier tonight, knocked out in the first round, and everyone’s drowning their sorrows differently.   
  
Jensen, for instance, drowned his in approximately five hundred hand grenades.  
  
Finally Jared spots Coop and Scotty and Chen, manages to convey over the music that he’s taking Jensen home and they’ll see them for breakfast tomorrow. Back at the bar, Jensen is chatting up some brunette dressed like a hooker, and seriously, Jared is so over this night.  
  
“This is him!” Jensen yells as Jared walks up, which somehow makes Jared feel slightly better.  
  
“You weren’t kidding.” The hooker smirks pointedly at Jared.  
  
“Smokin’, right?” Jensen nods at her conspiratorially. “You should see him naked.”  
  
“Oooo-kay.” Jared grabs his hand, gives a little salute to the hooker. “And, we’re done here.”  
  
“Awww baby I was jus’ tryin’ to objectify you.” Jensen protests as he stumbles after Jared. “Like you wanted, ‘member?”  
  
Annoyed or not, Jared has to laugh.  
  
Back at the hotel, Jensen is naked and writhing on the bed, begging Jared to fuck him, none of which is in any way fair. He’s saying things, _filthy_ things that sober Jensen just doesn’t say, and Jared is a little ashamed of how turned on he is, how close he comes to just saying to hell with it and giving Jensen what he’s begging for, dealing with the consequences in the morning.  
  
He doesn’t, of course, but he thinks about it a little longer than he should. In the end he just grinds their cocks together while he slides his slicked up fingers in and out of Jensen – something they’ve done before, at least, if maybe not exactly _often_ – and lets that be good enough.

**= = = = =**

  
The Saturday after they get back from New Orleans is the first official day of Jensen’s off-season. They go to the lumber yard and buy everything they need for what Jensen insists on calling the Big Ass Deck. They have to rent a Big Ass Trailer to haul it home.  
  
Jared has very official-looking building plans, that he created himself online. He spent hours getting all the specifications just right, down to the last nail and hinge and two-by-four. He’s so fucking excited he can hardly contain himself, so of course, on Sunday it starts pouring rain. Of fucking _course_ it does.  
  
Jensen wakes him up at six a.m. when he hears it start up. They race down to the shed in sweats and bare feet to find tarps, then hurry around to the driveway to tie them down as best they can to protect the wood. It’s maybe pointless, but it makes Jared feel better.  
  
They go back inside, shivering and soaked, and jump in a hot shower. Jared figures they’re up, offers to make coffee, but Jensen just shakes his head.  
  
“Bed,” he says, and shoves Jared in that direction.  
  
When Jared wakes up again he doesn’t know what time it is, it’s too dark outside to tell, sky through the skylight nothing but grey-black clouds obscured by the constant rivulets of water washing over the convex glass. Jensen is squirming in front of him, rubbing his ass purposefully against Jared’s erection, and suddenly Jared isn’t feeling very sleepy anymore.  
  
“Think I’m sober enough now?” Jensen asks, and Jared is immediately transformed into a blushing virgin, not sure what to say.   
  
When he fumbles around long enough for a response, Jensen huffs a laugh into the pillow.   
  
“I know you think it’s a big deal, because I kinda made it seem like one. But it’s really not, I promise. I always wanted to, _always_ , okay? I was just scared. Not of getting fucked, even…more just of being _someone who wants to get fucked_.”   
  
“I’m someone who wants to get fucked,” Jared points out.  
  
“And God bless you for it.”  
  
“You seem to like me okay.”  
  
“Yeah, you’re alright I guess.”  
  
“So you’re really fine with this, huh?”  
  
“So much more than fine. Maybe you forgot the begging?”  
  
Jared growls against his neck, pulls him in close and tight.  
  
“I didn’t forget. But I wouldn’t be opposed to hearing it again.”  
  
Turns out, Jensen can have a surprisingly filthy mouth even when he’s stone cold sober.


	10. Chapter 10

 

 

 ***** _Maybe it’s time we got back to the basics of love_. *****

  
  
With the season over and suddenly copious amounts of free time on his hands, Jensen does what any thirty-two year old with a guitar living in Austin would do – he joins a band.  
  
It’s actually Vic’s band, of all things, which just sort of adds to the weird quotient, but Jensen’s doing a lot of things the last couple of years that he never would have thought he’d do, so he figures, what’s one more? Things with Vic have been better, too. They actually had a drunken heart to heart of sorts, and Vic apologized in as much as Vic ever probably would or could; it’s more than enough for Jensen. The invite to join the band says more than Vic’s drunk, stumbling _sorries_ ever could, anyway.  
  
They’re actually not bad, just a drum kit, an electric bass, and two acoustic guitars. Jensen hasn’t sung in front of anyone who's not in his immediate circle of friends since college, hasn’t been on a stage in that long, either, but it’s funny how things come back. He’d forgotten, honestly, that he ever wanted to do this, wanted to perform for people. That all seems ridiculously long ago, almost too far away to even fathom now, but it’s still fun to think about playing rock star on the weekends, there’s no denying.  
  
Jared knows all about Jensen’s brief and unsuccessful run at stardom back in his teenage years, but Jensen knows he has a hard time wrapping his head around the idea. He’s none-the-less fully enthusiastic, in typical Jared fashion, about Jensen’s new hobby. For the first public gig that Jensen plays with the band, Jared brings half of Dell with him. They fill up most of the place, and make a fuck load of noise. Jensen is equal parts embarrassed and thankful.  
  
It goes okay, a little rough, but that’s to be expected for their first time out. They play mostly Randy Rogers and Ragweed covers, some Reckless Kelly and some Willie just for good measure, and when they close with _They Call it the Hill Country_ the crowd eats it up. Jensen still can’t stop smiling when he gets off stage, can’t even be bothered to feel self-conscious when Jared kisses him full on the mouth in front of God and his co-workers and everyone.  
  
“Did not need to see that,” Vic screws up his face, but there’s no malice behind it.  
  
“Bite me, Victor.” Jensen still can’t stop smiling.  
  
“You’d probably like it,” Vic shoots back.  
  
Jared just laughs.  
  
“Nah, he’s not big on the biting, are you baby?”  
  
And _now_ Jensen’s feeling self-conscious, blush creeping up while Vic and Jared both laugh at him.  
  
He’s saved, ironically enough, by the arrival of a guy who he quickly learns is Mark.  
  
“So this is the infamous Jensen. I started to think maybe you were a figment of Jared’s imagination.”  
  
Jensen shakes his hand, can’t help but notice the resemblance in their features, in the tone of their voices. He’s not sure if that should make him feel more or less threatened. If he was going to feel threatened, which of course, he’s not.  
  
On the way home, Jared’s driving.  
  
“So Mark seems nice.”  
  
Jared just smirks.  
  
“Yeah, he is nice.”  
  
He waits a beat, then continues.  
  
“Remind you of anyone?”  
  
“I guess so,” Jensen nods, “in certain ways.”  
  
“The freckles, the voice.” Jared shrugs. “That’s all it ever really was, ya know. A bad imitation.”

**= = = = =**

  
“This is the stupidest game ever invented.” Jared is standing on the green, glaring at Jensen. “And I hate you for ever making me play it.”  
  
Jensen just grins.  
  
“I know you do.”  
  
“You should have said how _stupid_ it was. You acted like it was all fun and easy.”  
  
“Jay, Hancock is the easiest course in the city. Possibly in the world. Toddlers play here.”  
  
“Only because toddlers aren’t smart enough to understand how _stupid_ this game is.”  
  
He’s lining up with his tongue out in concentration, putter level in his hands. His swing looks good, but the ball rolls over the edge of the cup, just rims out. _Again_. He watches it silently, as if maybe his quiet outrage will be enough to will the ball back in time and into the hole.  
  
“Better luck next time, Champ.” Jensen’s still grinning as he slaps Jared firmly on the ass.  
  
All he gets in return is continued glaring.  
  
“You’re pushing it, Ackles.”  
  
Jensen keeps grinning as he calmly sinks his putt.  
  
“This is the only part of golf that has any redeeming value at all,” Jared says later, when they’re sitting on the tailgate of Jensen’s truck, sipping beer from a cooler in the tiny parking lot at Hancock. Jared looks down at his feet, at his black and white oxford-style golf shoes swinging in the breeze. “Even the clothes are stupid.”  
  
“It’s my own fault for trying to introduce you to a gentleman’s game.” Jensen sighs sadly. “I should have known better.”  
  
Jared snorts.  
  
“Gentleman’s game, my ass. All you do is make jokes about clubs and balls and holes.”  
  
Jensen slings his arm around Jared’s neck and kisses the corner of his mouth.  
  
“Little known fact: that’s not actually a part of the game. That’s special for you, baby.”  
  
Jensen can tell he’s trying not to, but eventually Jared grins.  
  
“You’re too good to me, man.”  
  
“I know, right?”

**= = = = =**

  
It’s the first weekend of April and Jared and Jensen are hard at work on the Big Ass Deck when Jensen gets a call from Amy. He hasn’t actually spoken to her in months, hasn’t seen her face to face in over a year; to say he’s shocked would be an understatement.  
  
He knows from his mother, who knows from her mother, that she finished her residency and went back to Midland to join a private practice. She says she’s back in town this weekend moving the last of her stuff out of storage; she’s not sure when she’ll be back in Austin, and she’d like to have lunch or something, say goodbye.  
  
“You should go,” Jared’s mouthing at him, nodding and waving his hands even though they’re in the middle of this huge project. Jensen’s not sure what the point is, really, other than to maybe end things with her on a nicer note than he ever really dared to hope for.  
  
So he runs inside, grabs a quick shower, drives up to meet her at the Rudy’s BBQ joint by their old house, the one they used to go to all the time. It’s weird being back there, weird seeing her, weird being back there with her – but it’s good too. She smiles an easy smile, one Jensen hasn’t seen from her since sometime around their honeymoon, and he feels something tight and restrictive he didn’t even know was there loosening up in his chest.  
  
“So,” she says when they sit down with their plates of brisket and beans and potato salad, “Lisa told me. About Jared, I mean.”  
  
Jensen tries not to spit-take his mouthful of sweet tea.  
  
“I want you to know we weren’t gossiping about you,” she hurries on. “It wasn’t anything like that. I was just so eaten up at first with who this other woman could be.”  
  
She looks at him with a half-smile, almost embarrassed.  
  
“I called Lisa, right after you left. I just had to know if she knew who you were seeing; I don’t know why, Jensen. I knew it wouldn’t make a difference, wouldn’t change anything between us, I knew that. It just seemed so important at the time.”  
  
She shrugs.  
  
“Lisa said there weren’t any girls around that she knew of, none that she’d seen. I thought you were just hiding her, trying to keep me from finding out.” She rolls her eyes, and smiles again. “It seems so silly now, that I was so obsessed with it.”  
  
Jensen finally clears his throat.  
  
“So when did you, uh. You know. Hear?”  
  
“Last summer. I guess when you first told your friends? Lisa called me. She said she wasn’t sure if she should tell me, but if it was her she’d want to know.”  
  
Jensen tries to look up from his plate, meet her eyes, but he can’t quite make himself do it.  
  
“God, Amy. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I never thought you’d hear it from someone else; I never, _ever_ wanted that to happen, I hope you know that.”  
  
He finally looks up when her hand curls over his forearm. She’s smiling; it’s sad, but it’s not angry, and he figures that’s the best he can hope for given the circumstances.  
  
“I’m sure you never meant for me to find out at all, right?” She raises an eyebrow, quirks an ironic smile at him. “But I’m glad I did, honestly. I mean at first I was furious, and hurt – I won’t try to say I wasn’t. But something Lisa said actually stuck with me, and eventually it got through. She said _at least you know there was nothing you could have done_. And I realized, after I got over feeling sorry for myself, that she was right.”  
  
Jensen brings Jared a big plate of barbeque when he comes home, finds him stretched out in the grass in the back yard, sweaty and filthy and shirtless, looking up adoringly at the framework of the stairs that he built all by himself today.  
  
“So how was it?”  
  
“Dude. Sort of surreal.”  
  
“Yeah?” Jared sits up at the picnic table and digs into his food.  
  
“Yeah. She knows about us, for starters.”  
  
“Oh, shit!” Jared doesn’t slow down the pace of his eating, but his eyes go wide. “How awkward was that?”  
  
“You know what?” Jensen shrugs, digs out beer for both of them from the cooler Jared already has out back for easy access. He sits down on the picnic table next to Jared’s plate, feet up on the bench next to Jared’s ass. “It was surprisingly _not_. She seemed… _okay with it_.”  
  
Jared looks skeptical.  
  
“But what about the sinning? I mean she understands about the sodomy and all?”  
  
Jensen gives him a warning look, and Jared holds up his hands.  
  
“I’m just saying.”  
  
“She didn’t mention the sodomy.”  
  
“No?”  
  
“No. She said everybody deserves love, and that everybody has to find their own path with the Lord, and that I look like I’m at peace and she sincerely hopes I am.”  
  
Jared actually puts his fork down for that one.  
  
“Wow.”  
  
“ _I know_. She also said to give you her best, and she hopes you can forgive her for always being so envious of you, even though it turns out she had reason to be.”  
  
“ _Dude_. Now you’re just making shit up.”  
  
Jensen laughs.  
  
“I’m _not_ , swear to God, man. Like I said, it was kinda surreal.”  
  
Jared shoves his plate away, tugs Jensen over so he’s sitting in its place, with Jared between his knees. He tips his face forward to breathe against Jensen’s stomach; Jen curls his arms around Jared’s head, rests his chin on Jared’s sweaty hair.  
  
“So you feel better?”  
  
“I didn’t really realize I felt _bad_ , but yeah. In a weird way, yeah.”  
  
“Who knew, man?” Jared grins up at him. “Deep thoughts with Amy…uh, what was her name again?”  
  
“Hulsey.”  
  
“Right. Just assuming she dropped the Ackles like a fuckin’ hot potato.”  
  
Jensen snorts.  
  
“Think that’s a pretty safe assumption.”

**= = = = =**

  
“I’m so glad to hear it went well,” Elise smiles. “I’ve wondered so many times how Amy’s doing. I always hoped she’d want to continue individually like you did, but she was never interested.”  
  
Jensen shrugs.  
  
“We can’t all be as fucked up as me, E. You really hit the jackpot when I walked in.”  
  
It’s the kind of comment that Elise would have taken exception to, once upon a time. Now she just laughs indulgently; she knows Jensen’s kidding, at least mostly.  
  
“And how about things with your family?”  
  
Jensen’s grin fades a little at that one.  
  
“Status quo, mostly. They don’t get it. I don’t think they ever will. I’m welcome anytime. Jared’s not. They want me to pretend he doesn’t exist so I don’t make them uncomfortable. I think it’s a little difficult for them to really know much about my life if I’m supposed to avoid mentioning such a major part of it.“  
  
He rolls his eyes, shrugs.  
  
“We’re at a stand-off, I guess. For now, at least.”  
  
“And how are you feeling about it?”  
  
“I don’t know. I wish it was different, of course, but pretty much I feel like it’s been what I expected. My sister has been pretty cool, I guess that was sort of a surprise. I mean she’s a lot younger, we were never that close, so. I didn’t have any expectations when it came to her, really. I guess you’d call that a silver lining?”  
  
“That seems like a good way to frame it. Actually, you’re getting pretty adept at doing that on your own, without any help from me.” She looks at him shrewdly.  
  
“So I guess my next question is: what are you still doing here?”  
  
Jensen blushes a little, looks down at his hands.  
  
“I was kind of thinking that,” he shoots her a sheepish grin. “I felt a little weird saying it, I guess.”  
  
Elise just shakes her head.  
  
“I like to think of therapy as a cast, not a crutch. It should help give you structure and support while what’s broken heals, not turn into something you have to lean on just to navigate your life.”  
  
“So you think I’m healed, huh?” Jensen picks at his fingernail, throat feeling suddenly thick and tight. It seems crazy that he should be so emotional about the prospect of leaving Elise, especially considering that he had to be dragged to her door against his will in the beginning. But when he thinks about everything that’s happened to him since he met her, he wonders if it would have happened as easily, as relatively painlessly; he wonders if it would have happened _at all_ , if he’d never come here.  
  
“I think _healed_ is a fantasy. Human beings are in a perpetual state of injury, we’re always hurting, and always healing. But I think you’ve got the tools to deal with the minor bumps and bruises now. I think you know what you want and where you’re going. You understand yourself in ways you didn’t when you got here.”  
  
She smiles at him, the smile of a proud mentor this time.  
  
“And just remember, the most important thing to take with you when you leave: every time we’re broken and we heal, we get stronger.”  


 

 

 ***** _And with the windows wide open it feels hot to us anyway,  
two bound together on a day just like any day_. *****

  
  
Every seven years, a mattress doubles in weight due to the build-up of dead skin cells, dirt, dust mites and sweat - Jared learned it from a television commercial. Jensen pointed out that since the purpose of said commercial was to get you to buy a new mattress, he’s pretty sure that isn’t true, but Jared isn’t convinced. Now that he’s heard it, he can’t un-hear it, and when he lays down at night all he can think is that he’s sleeping on a pile of his own skin. To say nothing of the skin of anyone else who’s ever slept in his bed, and really, it’s the idea of years’ worth of Jensen and Gabby’s skin cells mingling inside his mattress that he just can’t take.  
  
“What the hell are you doing way over there?” Jensen grumbles at 2 a.m., reaching across the space Jared has put between them with his tossing and turning. Jensen’s fingers fan across his chest, resting there firm and warm. “Still can’t sleep?”  
  
“We have to get a new bed,” Jared finally whispers, defeated, and Jensen doesn’t even bother to try reasoning with him, just laughs in the dark.  
  
“I know we do.”  
  
It’s not until they’re in the mattress store, one of those big box places out on the highway; not until Jared’s lying on a plush California King that feels like a cloud, urging Jensen to give it a try too, that he realizes how this is going to look, if Jensen lays down next to him. They might as well wear rainbow t-shirts and carry signs that say _this is my boyfriend and we’re buying this bed to share_ , the implied post-script being, _we wore out our old one with all the gay sex we’re constantly having_.  
  
One look at Jensen’s paler-than-usual, slightly queasy expression tells Jared he’s already had the same thought. Jared pops up off the bed.  
  
“Okay, _now_ try.”  
  
Jensen looks slightly less uncomfortable, but still doesn’t lie down. Instead he looks at the ground and coughs meaningfully, and suddenly there’s a gray haired salesman in a navy blazer standing in front of them, look on his face wary at best. And it’s not that they’ve never run into awkward situations before; they’ve been together a year and a half now – more than enough time to have gotten their fair share of looks from waiters and hotel clerks and shop keepers, looks ranging from vague curiosity to obvious distaste. In general, it bothers Jensen way more than it bothers Jared, but Jared would be lying if he said he didn’t care _at all_ , that he doesn’t _ever_ worry about what other people think of him. For the most part, though, he could give two shits about what strangers might make of him and Jensen, and their relationship to each other, and that goes for the opinions of their newly acquired mattress salesman, too.  
  
Jensen, on the other hand, looks like he’s wishing the carpet would swallow him up.  
  
“Can I help you…gentlemen?” blazer guy asks, and he looks like he wants to be there about as much as Jensen does. Jared can only stand the awkward silence for a few seconds, weighs his stubborn instinct to stay on principle against Jensen’s obvious discomfort, and finally shakes his head.  
  
“No thanks, we’re just, uh. Leaving.” And he grabs Jensen’s hand and hauls him to the front door.  
  
Before they even make it outside Jensen is apologizing, looking miserable.  
  
“Sorry man, I didn’t. I shouldn’t have gotten all weird, I just. I didn’t really think about how it would –“  
  
He stops there, stuck, because saying _how it would look_ is tricky business; it would look exactly like what it _is_ , and they both know Jensen doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with what it is. At least, he really, really doesn’t _want_ to think that.  
  
Jared just holds up a hand, waves him off.  
  
“I know, me either, just. Don’t sweat it, okay. We’ll figure it out.”  
  
The ride home is quiet, weird mixture of disappointment and tension hanging between them, and Jared fucking hates that they have to deal with shit like this. Because yeah, he could just go buy the damn bed himself, but Jensen sleeps there too and it’s stupid, so fucking lame, not to bring him along to help pick out the mattress. And yeah, Jared also knows he should probably be able to say fuck it, probably shouldn’t give a shit how fucking _gay_ they look to some salesman they’ll never see again – or to anyone, for that matter – but they’re not all the way there yet, and he hates being fucking reminded of that in such a blatant and public way.  
  
He takes the dogs for a run when they get home. He’s not running away, exactly, he just wants to work out that nagging feeling, part irritation part embarrassment, that seems to have attached itself to him on his way out of the mattress store. The sweat and the burn in his muscles helps just like it always does, and by the time he’s turning the corner for the house he’s decided that this is a good thing, actually. A year ago Jensen wouldn’t even have considered going to a _mattress store_ with him, for fear of how it might be perceived. Today he actually made it into the store before he even stopped to think about how it might look. It’s progress, even if it’s slow and painful, and everyone knows Rome wasn’t built in a day.  
  
The next day Jared stops by a different store, a local place nestled in with all the other furniture stores up on Burnet Road. He goes alone, after work, and finds a middle-aged blonde with a friendly smile and a nametag that says Tammy, asks for her help. When he finds a bed he likes, he mentions that he’ll need to bring his boyfriend by for final approval before he decides. She doesn’t miss a beat, doesn’t even blink, just nods and says she’ll be around until closing every night this week, and she looks forward to helping them. Two days later, he and Jensen are lying shoulder to shoulder on a two thousand dollar pillow-top in the middle of the showroom floor, while Tammy explains the features and the warranty. She assures them it’s no problem at all to ring up half the bill on each of their credit cards, and takes their home number for the delivery service to call and give them their delivery window for Saturday.  
  
After dinner that night they walk down to Amy’s Ice Cream. Jared, as usual, takes a chance on an unknown and tries the Black Velvet while Jensen, as usual, sticks with the Standards and goes for Coffee. They’re almost back to the house, walking in companionable quiet, watching fireflies buzzing around their neighbors’ lawns as dusk settles in. Jared’s barely staying ahead of his quickly melting cone, trying to keep the ice cream from dripping out the tiny hole in the bottom, when Jensen breaks the silence.  
  
“You know, we should probably get a joint account or something.”  
  
His voice is way too purposefully casual to really _be_ casual; Jared’s ears immediately perk up, listening for the words Jensen’s not saying as well as the ones he is.  
  
“I mean, for house stuff, bills…or like today with the bed.” Jensen’s looking conspicuously at his ice cream cone, conspicuously _not_ at Jared, as he shrugs and continues. “I was just thinking, it might make things easier.”  
  
And Jared thinks it’s just as well that Jensen’s not looking, because his goofy grin doesn’t need any witnesses, thanks. He just concentrates on resisting the sudden urge to back Jensen up against the nearest hard surface and kiss him – at least until they make it through the door of the house. Instead he hides his smile behind his ice cream and shrugs too.  
  
“Yeah, probably.” He nods, just as casually. “Sounds like a plan.”

**= = = = =**

  
“What the hell is that?”  
  
“What the hell is what?” Jensen doesn’t look up from the paper, sections of the Sunday _Statesman_ spread out across the table, coffee in his hand and dogs sprawled at his feet.  
  
“That noise.”  
  
“It’s called _the radio_ , Jay.” Jensen’s still not looking up. “You might have heard of it.”  
  
“That doesn’t sound like _the radio_ to me.” Jared grabs a mug and pours his coffee. “I’ve heard _the radio_ before, and that sounds…not like it at all.”  
  
He sits down at the table and waits, looking at Jensen expectantly. Finally Jen sighs, puts his coffee down and lowers the paper so Jared can see his eyes.  
  
“It’s KVET. Also known as pre-set number two in your truck? I'm pretty sure you've heard of it.”  
  
Jared shakes his head, disbelieving scowl firmly in place.  
  
“That’s not –,” he starts, but Jensen rustles the sports pages impatiently.  
  
“Look. They play gospel on Sunday mornings.” His voice is a little defensive, his face a little flushed. “I like it, okay?”  
  
“Oh.” Jared just swallows his coffee and nods, wobbly feeling suddenly invading his chest. “Yeah, okay.”  
  
He’s never thought about it before, not really. He knows, of course he does, that Jensen’s faith has always been important to him – knows that faith has had to weather a pretty fucking big crisis in the last few years. He knows Jensen was always a church-goer, _before_ , but somewhere in the back of his mind, Jared just assumed Jensen went because he had to, because his parents or his girlfriend or his wife expected him to. Jared’s never stopped to think about whether Jensen actually wanted to, actually _liked_ that Sunday morning ritual he’s participated in his entire life. Suddenly it’s clear, sitting right between them in the middle of the breakfast table.  
  
Jensen misses it. And the lingering blush on Jensen’s cheeks as he determinedly turns back to his paper makes a knot form in Jared’s throat that feels something like shame.  
  
Jared’s religious upbringing was spotty, at best. His grandparents, those no-nonsense children of devout Eastern European immigrants, went to mass every Sunday. His parents, less often. Jeff actually got confirmed, but somewhere not long after that, church kind of seemed to fall by the wayside in favor of ball games and piano lessons and homework. By the time Jared and Megan got to confirmation age, his parents didn’t even bother. On the whole, Jared went with Chris and his family to Our Lady of Guadalupe more often than he went with his own family to St. Mary’s. By the time he was in high school it was pretty much Christmas Eve, Easter, and Mother’s Day (at his grandmother’s insistence), and that was about it.  
  
Of all the ways that Jared may have struggled in coming to terms with his sexuality, religious beliefs never played a part. But for Jensen it played the biggest part, and Jared knows this. He’s ashamed of himself, suddenly, for forgetting that just because it’s not important to him personally, that just because Jensen doesn’t talk about it, it doesn’t mean Jen’s just _forgotten_ this thing that’s always been such a huge part of his life. Jared’s never considered that Jensen might think church - active participation in his faith - isn’t something he gets to do anymore, but the look on his face has Jared considering it now. It makes his heart twist with sympathy.  
  
He drains his coffee, runs a hand over Jensen’s head on his way to put his mug in the sink, and leaves Jensen alone with his paper and his music.  
  
Jared’s got some research to do.

**= = = = =**

  
They’re just leaving lunch, Jared’s whole family having gathered for his dad’s birthday. They’ve got the windows open to let in the warm Saturday afternoon air, cruising down F.M. 1826 away from The Salt Lick and back toward town. Jensen’s got his left elbow hanging out the window, fingers curled loose around the side of the steering wheel, right hand resting up high on Jared’s thigh. He looks good, so fucking good and so happy, sated with beer and barbeque and spring sunshine, wind whipping his hair, and Jared figures it’s time he grows a pair and makes Jensen talk about this.  
  
“Did you know,” he asks conversationally, “that there are over thirty gay-affirming churches in the city of Austin?”  
  
Jensen’s nose crinkles just a little, and he cuts his eyes sideways for the briefest second before they’re back on the road.  
  
“Is this a pop quiz, or what?”  
  
“Not a quiz, no. Just, you know. An interesting fact.”  
  
“Uh huh,” is all Jensen says, then silence.  
  
“You’re probably wondering why _I_ know that,” Jared offers after awhile, eyes fixed on Jensen’s face. Jensen just snorts.  
  
“Not really.” His eyes cut over to the passenger seat again, expression wry. “You don’t give me nearly enough credit for how well I know you either, ya know.”  
  
Jared grins a little at that. Jensen doesn’t say anything more, so Jared lets it sit for awhile before he tries again.  
  
“I just thought. Well. I guess you know what I thought.”  
  
“Think I got it, yeah.”  
  
“It’s just. You shouldn’t have to stop going to church, Jen. I mean, if you want to. There are places we could go where you wouldn’t have to feel weird.”  
  
Jensen looks over at that, eyes lingering for longer than a nanosecond this time. He clears his throat as he looks back at the road.  
  
“We?”  
  
“Oh.” Jared shrugs. “Well I mean, I don’t have to go. I thought you might not want to go by yourself or whatever, but ya know. I don’t care, I won’t be offended or anything.”  
  
“Jay.” Jensen looks at him witheringly. “I meant, you’d actually go with me? I know it’s not really your thing.”  
  
Jared grins, picks Jensen’s hand up off his leg and laces their fingers together.  
  
“I’m not like, Anti-God or something. I’m pretty sure I can walk through the doors without the place getting struck by lightning.”  
  
Jensen raises an eyebrow like he’s not so sure, but his fingers press and squeeze against Jared’s hand, almost imperceptible. Jared lets it sit again, waits until they’re almost home before he says, “You know the University Baptist Church, the one on The Drag? It’s got a really interesting history.”  
  
Jared knows Jensen went to the Church of Christ with Amy, but he’s pretty sure Jensen’s parents’ church, the one Jensen grew up in, is Baptist. He’s playing a hunch here.  
  
“Oh, yeah?” is all Jensen says, but he actually sounds interested, and Jared thinks maybe his hunch was right.  
  
“Yeah. They’ve gotten kicked out of the Baptist Churches Club a bunch of times over the years for being all progressive and shit.”  
  
“The Baptist Churches Club?” Jensen’s eyebrows look like they’re trying to climb into his hairline, but he’s grinning.  
  
“Well, whatever it’s called.” Jared can’t help his smug look. “They didn’t like all the crazy new-fangled ideas the church had about integration, or women, or gays, so they kept on kicking them out of the Club. But the church, ya know, they stuck to their guns every time. And funny thing, the Club always comes around, eventually.”  
  
Jensen just nods, and Jared lets it sit one more time. If there’s one thing he knows, it’s that there’s no rushing Jensen. He’ll get there when he’s ready, and not one second before.  
  
They get home and change clothes, Jared edges and trims while Jensen mows. They bag everything up and put it on the curb for pick-up, fire up the grill. They invite Chris and Kelly over for burgers, sit around with their feet in the freezing cold pool, watching the dogs swim and drinking beer, listening to Cory Morrow and Micky and the Motorcars through the speakers Jared mounted on the back of the house and connected to his iPod dock inside.  
  
They stumble up to bed after midnight, just a little drunk. Jensen tosses Jared onto the bed, strips him down piece by piece, fucks him long and deep and just right, just how Jared likes it. They’re still fooling around in the shower, laughing and touching without any heat or intent, before they finally flop down in their new bed, still damp and drunk and exhausted and content.  
  
“I think we should go, tomorrow,” Jared whispers in the dark, when Jensen’s molded up along his back, arm over his middle, pulling him in close. “Starts at eleven.”  
  
Jensen’s quiet, then Jared feels hot lips along the back of his neck, wet soft kisses making him shiver, and he knows what that means. Jensen doesn’t even need to say it; Jared smiles into his pillow.  


 

 

 ***** _This old porch is just a long time of waiting and forgetting,  
remembering the coming back and not cryin’ about the leaving_. *****

  
  
For the 3rd time since Jensen met Jared, the Spurs and the Mavs are meeting in the play-offs. Both previous times the Mavs have won the series, a fact that Jensen never lets Jared forget. Jared counters by pointing out that during the same period the Spurs have won _two_ championships to the Mavs’ _zero_ , and then usually goes on to remind Jensen that in fact that Mavs have _never_ won a championship, before expounding on the Spurs’ grand winning tradition over their long and storied history.  
  
This little exchange leaves them both pissy and annoyed every single time, but they don’t let that stop them from repeating it pretty much ad nauseum.  
  
This year, since Jensen is off work anyway, and since the Big Ass Deck is _this close_ to being finished, sitting mostly constructed but not yet erected in the back yard, Jared decided that he should just burn the vacation time and take off the whole two weeks of the Mavs-Spurs series. Their plan is to go to every game, regardless of whether it’s in San Antonio or Dallas, right up until the bitter end. They’re also going to finish the damn deck before Jared has to go back to work if it’s the last fucking thing they do.  
  
The Mavs have the second seed in the West and home court through the first two rounds, and Jensen is pretty fuckin’ psyched for the next two weeks.

**= = = = =**

  
The first Saturday they get a late start because of all the sex. It’s totally not Jensen’s fault; they’re sleeping downstairs now, in his old bed, and it’s a Queen when he’s used to a King. He can’t be held responsible for what happens when he has to sleep even closer to Jared than usual. He also can’t be held responsible for the fact that Jared is completely unable to resist his advances.  
  
“You fight dirty,” Jared groans. “It’s totally not fair.”  
  
“Them’s the breaks, Champ.” Jensen slaps him on the ass and goes to make the coffee.  
  
Sunday, they work in the morning, fuck in the afternoon, and drive to Dallas in the evening for the game at seven o’clock. The Mavs win; Jensen gloats and Jared pouts, then Jensen blows him on the balcony of their room at the W.  
  
“Okay fine,” Jared huffs, hands braced against the railing on either side of Jensen’s head. “we’ll call it even.”  
  
Monday and Tuesday they work feverishly on the deck, until they’re sunburned and so sore they can barely move. By the end of the night Tuesday they can walk up honest-to-God stairs from the deck in the yard and sit on the second story deck to drink their beer. Jared digs the sleeping bags out of the shed.  
  
“Dude, do you think the neighbors can see us up here?” Jared sounds only mildly curious, even though they’re naked and making out under the stars in the cool April air.  
  
Jensen shifts under him, scoots until a corner of the blanket comes free and he can pull it over them.  
  
“There,” he pants, and keeps sucking at Jared’s mouth. “Shut up now.”  
  
On Wednesday they drive back to Dallas and have lunch with Mackenzie and Will. Jensen gets the idea that she thinks it earns her extra cool points, having a gay brother. She seems way more interested in him now than she ever was before, which he actually finds pretty funny.  
  
The Spurs win, and Jared blows Jensen on the W balcony.  
  
“Because fair’s fair,” he insists, like Jensen’s gonna object.  
  
Thursday, they get the stairs in place for the top level of the deck, and take turns climbing up to the top of them and confirming how great the view is gonna be.  
  
“This was a fucking awesome idea, Jared,” Jared says pointedly.  
  
“Careful,” Jensen rolls his eyes, “don’t break your arm, there.”  
  
Friday, they work in the morning, fuck in the afternoon, and drive to San Antonio in the evening for the game at eight-thirty. Jared wears the Ginobili jersey he got at the Denver game Jensen took him to however-many years ago; the Spurs win, and Jensen starts to look worried.  
  
“Nowitzki had a really good game,” Jared tries, by way of half-assed encouragement.  
  
Jensen just glares.  
  
“Shut your big, whiny Argentinean mouth.”

**= = = = =**

  
On the second Saturday, they get the top platform of the deck finished. Jared really, really wants to sleep up there, but the railing isn’t in place yet and Jensen absolutely isn’t having it.  
  
“Dude, you’re no fun.” Jared pouts, sitting on the edge and swinging his feet, still not willing to come down.  
  
“You want to pout, sit up here by yourself. You want fun, come to bed.” Jensen cuffs him on the back of the head and climbs down the stairs.  
  
Sunday night is game four in San Antonio, but Jared is so excited that Jensen lets himself be dragged out of bed at six a.m., just to make sure they finish all the construction today. They’re done early enough that even after they stomp up and down the stairs four or five times, step on every board and shake every inch of railing just to make sure she’s solid, they still have time to take a quick dip in the freezing cold pool, and take a nap before they have to leave.  
  
“That Big Ass Deck was a fucking awesome idea, Jared,” Jensen whispers into his shower-wet hair while they’re spooned together in bed.  
  
“We’re gonna sleep there tonight.” Jared sounds like a little kid, all excited about a new toy. “Right?”  
  
“Yeah,” Jensen rubs his hand across the damp, naked skin of Jared’s belly and sucks at the back of his neck, “but the neighbors can _definitely_ see us up there; we better take care of business now.”  
  
The Spurs win to take a 3-1 lead in the series, but Jensen doesn’t want to ruin Jared’s big night on the top deck, so he doesn’t pout. _Much_.  
  
Monday, they wake up on the deck with the sun on their faces at six a.m, then go downstairs to bed and sleep in as a reward for all their hard work. They wake up later for a slow, lazy fuck and go to Maudie’s for breakfast tacos before they break out the paint. Jared bought two new professional-grade sprayers, so they can re-paint the house while they’re at it; when they’re done everything will be all shiny-new and perfectly matched. Jensen has to admit, he’s been pretty impressed with Jared’s dedication to the whole project. He’s also been pretty amused with how fussy Jared’s been about the whole thing.  
  
“I don’t know,” Jared’s looking at the two paint samples they put up on the side of the house, closing one eye then the other, moving his hand from side to side in front of his face. “Which one do you like?”  
  
“You mean the gray, or the gray?” Jensen rolls his eyes. “Just pick one, princess. We’re burning daylight.”  
  
Tuesday they paint in the morning, barely manage to scrub themselves clean enough to be presentable for the game in Dallas that night. Jensen is twitchy and quiet, white knuckling through a tightly contested first half, but when the Mavs start to pull away in the third quarter he starts to loosen up a little. Back at the hotel, they disagree over who owes whom a blow job, since the Mavs won, but the Spurs still lead the series. In the end, Jensen makes the whole discussion moot when he announces that he really just wants Jared to fuck him.  
  
“And, we have a winner.” Jared grins, and yanks Jensen’s fly open.  
  
By Wednesday, Jensen is starting to wonder if there’s a light at the end of the tunnel of endless painting. The deck has had its last coat, but the house is still a work in progress. They decide to put down the paint for awhile and finish sealing up the new doors in the bedroom, get it done just in time to move their stuff back upstairs and spend the night in their room.  
  
“Man, it’s good to be back,” Jensen sighs as he sprawls out naked on the huge, fluffy new bed, still damp from an extended turn in the big shower.  
  
“We were downstairs in our own house.” Jared rolls his eyes. “You act like you were in a third world country.”  
  
On Thursday, they wake up with the light slanting down across their feet from the skylight, just like it should be, and all is right with the world again as far as Jensen’s concerned. They finish the house in time to head to San Antonio for Game 6; just the doors, the shutters and the windows are left and it will all be over.  
  
Dallas looks like they’re gonna lay down and die in the first half, and Jensen is so disgusted he’s ready to walk out. But they come back, go up by one in the third, and actually make a game out of it. In the end, it’s still a ten point spread in the last minutes, and Jensen sulks and sips his lukewarm beer, annoyed when Jared cheers and annoyed when he doesn’t. The walk back to the car is silent.  
  
“Dude, I fuckin’ _hate_ the Spurs.” Jensen finally says, voice choked like he’s in physical pain.  
  
Jared throws an arm around his neck as they walk, rests a hand on top of his head and ruffles his hair sympathetically.  
  
“I know you do, man.”

**= = = = =**

  
Saturday there’ll be no Game 7, no last trip to Dallas for all the marbles the way Jensen was hoping, so they’ll go to Home Depot instead. Jared will spend an hour choosing just the right shade of red for the front door and Jensen will say _yes, I like it_ and _looks good, let’s do it_ to every sample Jared shows him. He'll shuffle around looking at paint brushes and rolling pans to kill the time, trying not to roll his eyes too much. Sunday they should have time to make it to church and still finish painting. Monday Jared will go back to work and Jensen will go back to spending his days practicing with his band, watching baseball, grocery shopping, and waiting for Jared to come home.  
  
But today is Friday, the last day of April, and they’ve been doing trim work all day. The weather was overcast and sunny by turns, air hot and stiflingly thick; they worked with a purpose from daybreak on, both way past ready for this to be finished. They stopped only to go pick up sandwiches from Thundercloud, kept right on painting while they ate.  
  
Now they’re sitting side by side on the south-facing edge of the top deck, legs dangling, elbows tucked over the middle rung of the railing. They’re watching the sun disappear behind the trees in the Western hills, watching it paint a rainbow of colors across the low, thick thunder clouds that are starting to roll in. The dogs were finally allowed into the back yard after being restricted to non-painting areas for a week, and after running around, sniffing everything new there is to sniff and swimming all afternoon, they’re tucked up together on the second floor deck, still not convinced that the company of Jensen and Jared is worth the scary climb up to the top level.  
  
“Some vacation, J-man,” Jensen sucks on his beer and looks out over the red Spanish-tiled rooftops of the University of Texas, past the Tower and the pink dome of the Capitol to the lights of Downtown Austin just starting to come on.  
  
“Sucks that you took all that time off and all you got to do was work.”  
  
“And hang out with you,” Jared smiles, bumps Jensen with his shoulder. “And watch hoops. And build this sweet, Big Ass Deck for our house.”  
  
“Still. We should take a real vacation somewhere this summer. We never really have.”  
  
“Yeah? Where would you wanna go?”  
  
“I don’t care, man. Wherever you wanna go.”  
  
“Jeff says the fishing’s good on Copano Bay.”  
  
“Yep.”  
  
“Or we could just go to the beach. I haven’t been to Padre since Spring Break Junior year.”  
  
Jensen grins and elbows him.  
  
“Yeah. Or hey, we could even leave the state.”  
  
Jared looks affronted.  
  
“Dude. Why would we do that, when we have everything you need right here?”  
  
Jensen rolls his eyes, but he keeps on grinning.  
  
Jared just laughs, bumps his shoulder again.  
  
“So you’d go with me wherever I wanted, really?”  
  
Jensen nods, shrugs.  
  
“Sure. Why not?”  
  
Jared wraps his sticky arm around Jensen’s sticky neck, nudges at Jensen’s chin with his thumb until Jensen turns his face up. Jared kisses him soundly, beer breath and sweaty, paint-spattered face and all.  
  
“You know, Ackles, you turned out to be a pretty okay guy.” Jared grins. “I could’ve done worse.”  
  
“Yeah, well.” Jensen leans into him, temple pressed to Jared’s stubbly jaw as he looks out over the city. “Back at ya.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Lyric credits/notations](http://makeit-takeit.livejournal.com/8428.html#cutid2)   
>  [Original story notes and thank-you's](http://makeit-takeit.livejournal.com/10842.html#cutid1)   
> 


End file.
